t^lpj 

^^m- 

^^ 

^^ 

^"l^/^J^^^ 

§ 

^jSa^lj^gjj*^  ■ 

P 

Jy^^^ii^^ 

M 

s 

K.^^*^ 

liiToni 


~it^j«t«3' 


Fig.  1. — Outer  surface  of  left  hemisphere  of  the  brain  (modified  from  Exuer). 


Fio.  2.-Inner  (mesial)  mrface  of  the  Hght  hemisphere  of  the  brain  (modified 
from  Schiifer  and  Horsley). 


In  both  cases  the  shaded  area  is  the  motor  zone.    See  i>af;e  47. 


ELEMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOCT 


BY 


JAMES  MARK  BALDWIN 

Pi'ofessor-dect  in  Pnnceton  Coaege,  Professor  in  the  University  of  Toronto, 
Author  of  "  Handbook  of  Psychology."' 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

.1893 


Copyright,  1893, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO. 


tARYr 
EDUC. 
PSYCH. 
LIBRARY 


PSYCH. 
LtBRABY 


THE  MKRSUON  COMPANY  PRBS8, 
RAHWAY,  N.  J. 


PREFACE. 


This  book  has  been  prepared  in  response  to  a  request 
from  a  number  of  teachers  of  psychology  in  the  universities 
who  suggested  that  the  expense  and  length  of  my  Hand- 
hook  of  Psychology  precluded  its  use  as  the  text  in  their 
courses  of  instruction.  I  have,  accordingly,  aimed  to  make 
a  book  which  shall  present  the  newest  essentials  of  the 
science  in  a  single  compact  volume  at  reasonable  cost.  It 
differs  from  my  larger  work  mainly  in  its  omissions.  I 
have  endeavored,  however,  to  simplify  the  exposition, 
throughout,  often  rewriting  whole  sections  or  recasting 
whole  chapters  with  this  in  view,  and  adding  more  illustra- 
tive facts  and  explanations. 

The  treatment  of  the  nervous  system  has  been  put  at  the 
beginning — a  pedagogical  concession  to  my  critics,  to 
which  I  ask  attention  as  unanimous  as  their  criticism.  In 
uegard  to  other  alterations — respecting  which  the  critics' 
opinions  have  largely  neutralized  one  another — I  have 
depended  as  before  mainly  on  my  own  judgment.  AVhat 
these  alterations  are  the  book  is  here  to  show.  I  am  sorry 
that  the  doctrine  of  "  Feeling  "  has  not  aroused  the  ap- 
proval in  its  readers  tliat  the  doctrine  of  "Belief"  has.  It 
is  stated  more  clearly  in  this  book  ;  but  it  is  the  same  doc- 
trine, and — may  everybody  be  converted  !  Finally,  I  have 
added  before  the  first  chapter  a  short  glossary  of  terms 
likely  to  embarrass  the  student  at  the  beginning  of  his 
study  ;  and  instead  of  burdening  the  pages  with  references 
to  the  authorities,  I  have  given  at  the  outset  once  for  all 
the   oeneral  works  (Enolish  mainlv)  in  which  detailed  and 


IV  PREFACE. 

exhaustive  expositions  may  be  found.  A  reference  to  the 
corresponding  fuller  treatment  of  my  own  larger  work  is 
given  at  the  beginning  of  each  chapter. 

I  may  add  that  I  am  grateful  to  all  who  have  done  my 
w^ork  the  honor  of  reviewing,  teaching,  or  reading  it ; 
especially  to  the  reviewers.  One  who  is  conscious  of  his 
own  sins  feels  the  more  the  humanity  of  the  physician  who 
forbears  to  probe  them  too  deeply. 

J.  Mark  Baldwin. 

Toronto,  January,  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 

Glossary  of  Terms, xv 

References, xvi 

INTRODUCTION. 

CHAPTER  I. 

NATURE   OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

i^  1.  i)e^/^^7^o?^.— Subject-matter  of  psychology.— Distinc- 
tion between  psychological  and  physiological  facts. — 
True  relation  of  psychology  to  physiology,       .        .        1-5 

§  2.  Difficulties  and  Errors  in  Psychology.— Use  of  reflection. 
—Means  of  remedying  these  difficulties  :  supplemen- 
tary psychological  sources. — External  sources,      .  5-11 

§3.     Unity  of  Psychological  Sources  in  Consciousness,      .        .        11 

CHAPTER  II. 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD. 

§  1.     Principles  of  Scientific  MetluxJ. — In  general,           .        .  12-13 
§  2.     Application  of  Scientific  Method  to  PsycJiology.— Psycho- 
logical observation, 13-15 

§  3.     Experiment  in  Psychology. — General  conclusion,    .        .  15-18 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

§  1.  Structure  of  the  Nervous  System. — Nerve-elements. — 
Combination  of  elements  into  a  S3"stem. — The  receiv- 
ing apparatus. — The  reacting  apparatus. — The  regis- 
tering apparatus, 19-32 

§  2,  Functions  of  the  Nervous  System. — Fundamental  pro- 
perties of  nervous  tissue. — Neurility. — Sentience  : 
integration,  retention,  selection. — Law  of  nervous 
dynamogenesis, 32-39 

V 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 


§  3.  Kindsof  Nervous  lieactio)!.— Automatic. — Reflex. — Vol- 
untary.— Negative  :  inhibition,  ....     39-44 

§  4.  Principles  of  Nerwus  Action. — Specialization. — Cerebral 
localization. —  Indifference. —  Substitution.  —  Specific 
connection. — Summation, 44-51 

§  5.  Final  Statement  of  Nervous  Fimction. — Habit. — Accom- 
modation,          ,        .        .  51 

CHAPTER  lY. 

CLASSIFICATION  AND  DIVISION. 

§  1.     Three  Great  Classes 52-53 

§  2.     Unity  of  the  Three  Classes  in  Consciousness,        .        .        54-55 
§  3.    Division  of  the  Subject, 55 


PART  I. 

GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MIND. 

CHAPTER  y. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

§  1.     Nature  of  Consciousness, 56-57 

§  2.     Area  of  Consciousness. — Degrees    of    consciousness. — 

Apperception, 57-60 

§  3.    Development  of  Consciousness, 60-62 

§  4.     Nervous  Conditions  of  Consciousness,         .         .         .        62-64 

§  5.     Sentience  and  Sensibility, 64-65 

§  6.  Kinds  of  Consciousness  as  Dependent  on  Nervous  Func- 
tion.— Passive  consciousness. — Reactive  conscious- 
ness.— Voluntary  consciousness. — Fundamental  prop- 
erties of  consciousness, 65-70 

§  7.     The  Nervous  System  and  the  Unity  of  Consciousness,      .     70-71 

CHAPTER   VI. 

ATTENTION. 

§  1.  Definition  of  Attention. — Reflex  or  involuntary  atten- 
tion.— Voluntary  attention, 71-74 

§2.  Bearings  of  Attention  in  tlie  Menial  Life. — Relation  of 
attention  to  sensation. — To  movement. — To  the  intel- 
lect.—To  feeling.— To  the  bodily  functions,  .        75-79 

§  3.     Educational  Bearings  of  the  Doctrine  of  Attention.— 

Training  of  the  attention. — Habits  of  attention,        .     79-80 


C0NTt:NT8. 

PART    II. 

INTELLECT. 

CHAPTER  YII. 

DIVISION   OF   THE  INTELLECTUAL  FUNCTIONS. 


1.  The  Apperceptive  Function, 

2.  The  national  Function,    . 


PAGES 

81 
83 


§6. 

§8. 


THE   APPERCEPTIVE   FUNCTIOK 

PRESENTATION. 

CHAPTER  Vni. 

SENSATION. 

General  Nature  of  Sensation. — Distinction  between 
sensation  and  impression. — Affective  and  presenta- 
tive  elements  in  sensation, 

Characters  of  Sensation, 

Quality  of  Sensation. — Relativity  of. — Contrast, 

Special  Sensations. — Smell, — Taste. — Hearing.  — Pre- 
sentative  elements  in  sensations  of  sound.— Sight, 

Common  Sensations.— Organic . — Cutaneous. — Touch. 
— Temperature  sense. — Muscular  sensations. — Kin- 
aesthetic. — Innervation  sensations. — Effort  and  re- 
sistance.— Presentative  element  in  muscular  sensa- 
tions.— Nervous  sensations. — Physiological  basis  of 
common  sensations, 

Quantity  of  Sensation  :  Psychophysics. — Wobfi's  law. 
— Extensive  or  massive  sensations. 

Duration  of  Sensation  and  Tlwught :  Psychometry. — 
Effect  of  attention  upon  the  duration  and  quantity- 
of  sensation. — Effect  of  duration  upon  the  intensity 
of  sensation, 

Tone  of  Sensation,    .        .        .        .        . 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PERCEPTION. 


83-84 
84-85 
85-87 

87-93 


Definition  of  Perception, 
Analysis  of  Perception, 


93-103 
103-106 


106-110 
110 


111 
111-113 


CONTENTS. 


\  3.     Differentiation, 112-113 

5  4.  Localization. — The  perception  of  space. — Data  for  the 
perception  of  space. — Synthesis  of  data  ;  tactual 
space, — Visual  perception  of  space. — Presentation 
of  foreign  body. — Visual  perception  of  distance. — 
Localization  of  sounds  in  space. — Feeling  of  equi- 
librium from  the  ear. — Ideal  product  of  localiza- 
tion :  idea  of  space, 113-123 

5  5.     Sense-Intuition. — Motor-intuition,      ....     123-126 
\JS^  Reflection  or  Self -consciousness.  —  Ideal    product    of 

reflection  ;  idea  of  self, 126-127 

REPRESENTATION. 
Pernors. 

CHAPTER  X. 

RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION. 


Memory.  —  Difference    between 
representation.  —  Definition    of 


General  Nature  of 
presentation  and 
memory, 128-134 

Retention.  —  Theories  of  retention. — Physiological 
theory. — Physical  basis  of  memory. — Mental  con- 
ditions of  retention, 134-143 

Reproduction. — Its  primary  condition. — Supplemen- 
tary condition. — Secondary  aids  to  reproduction. — 
Power  of  imaging.— Retention  and  reproduction  as 
mental  growth,       .        .        • ,      •        •        •        •     143-148 


CHAPTER  XI. 

RECOGNITION  AND  LOCALIZATION. 

§  1.  Recognition. — Feeling  of  familiarity. — Distinction  be- 
tween recognition  of  an  object  and  of  an  image,    .     149-152 

§2.     Ideal  Product  of  Recognition  :  Personal  Identity,     .  152 

§  3.  Localization  in  Time. — Data  for  the  reconstruction  of 
time. — Intensity  as  an  indication  of  time. — Move- 
ments of  attention  as  indicating  position  in  time. — 
Units  of  duration.— Perception  of  time  by  the  ear,     152-159 

§  4.     Ideal  Product  of    Temporal    Localization :    Idea    of 

Time, 159 

§5.     Kinds  of  Memory :   Local,  Logical,      ....     159-160 


CONTEXTS. 


IX 


COMBINATION. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


ASSOCIATION. 


§  1.  General  Nature  of  Association. — Definition. — Ground 
or  reason  of  association  :  the  preceding  idea. — 
Physiological  basis  of  association, 

§  2.     Laics  of  Association. — Particular  or  secondary  laws. — 
Association    by    contrast. — Universal    or    primary 
law. — Law  of  correlation. — Interest  as  influenc- 
ing association, 

§3.     For^ns  of  Association . — Complex  associations,     . 

§  4.     Force  of  Association, 


161-163 


163-171 

171-174 

174 


§1- 

§3. 

§3. 
§4. 

§5. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


IMAGINATION. 


Passive  Imagination. — Material  of  the  imagination. — 
Presuppositions  :  memory  and  association,     . 

Modes  of  Passive  Imagination. — Dissociation. — Com- 
position.— Fancy. — Relation  of  fancy  to  reality, 

Active  or  Constructive  Imagination. — Definition, 

Analysis  of  Constructive  Imagination. — Natural  im- 
pulse or  appetence. — Intention. — Selective  atten- 
tion.— Feeling  of  fitness, 

Kinds  of  Constructive  Imagination. — Scientific  imag- 
ination.— Relation  of  scientific  imagination  to 
reality  :  Esthetic  imagination. — Law  of  construc- 
tive imagination  :  correlation,         .... 

Ideal  Product  of  the  Imagination  :  the  Infinite, 


175-178 

178-182 
182 


182-187 


18i 


-191 
191 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ILLUSIONS. 

§  1.     Nature  of  Illusion. — General  character  of  illusion. — 

Illusion  due  to  interpretation,         ....     192-194 

§  2.  Grounds  of  Illusion. — Similarity  of  presentations  and 
representations. — Absence  of  internal  stimulus. — 
Intra-organic  stimulus  :  Mental  predisposition  to 
illusion 194-198 

§  3.     Kinds  of  Illusion. — Illusion   proper. — Elements    of 

reality  in  illusion  proper.— Hallucination,      .        .     198-201 


CONTENTS. 

PAGKS 

4.  Detection  and  Rectification  of  Illusion. — Diminished 
intensity. — Absence  of  locality. — Inappropriate 
escort. — Voluntary  control, 201-204 

ELABORATION. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THOUGH^. 

1.  Nature  of  ThougJit.— General  character.— Stages,     .    205-206 

2.  Conception. — Process  of  conception. — Abstraction. — 

Generalization. — Products  of  conception. — Lan- 
guage in  its  relation  to  conception. — The  use  of 
images  in  conception, 206-211 

3.  Judgment. — Its  nature. — Law  of  identity. — Unity  of 

the  judgment. — Parts  of  the  proposition,        .        .     211-214 

4.  Kinds  of  Judgment. — According  to  intention. — Ac- 

cording to  belief  :  categorical  judgments. — Law  of 
sufficient  reason. — Hypothetical  judgments,        .        214-216 

5.  Reasoning. — Deduction  :  the  syllogism. — Conceptual 

interpretation  of  the  syllogism,       ....  216-219 

6.  Induction. — Relation  of  induction  and  deduction,  219 

7.  Proof, 219-220 

8.  Ideal  Product  of  Thought 220-221 


§1 


PART  III. 

FEELING, 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

NATURE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF   SENSIBTLTY. 

Nature    of    Sensibility. — Definition. — Most    general 

mark  of  sensibility, 

§  2.     Division, 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

§  1.     Physical  Condition^  k)f  PimWU  aiutTain, 
§  2.     Resulting   Conception.— General  conclusion    on    sen- 
suous pleasure  and  pain, 


222-224 
225 


226-233 
233-236 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGES 

§  3.     Primary  Ideal  Conditions, 236-237 

§  4.     Secondary  Conditions, 237-239 

§  5,     Final  Conclusion  on  Pleasure  and  Pain,  .        .        -       240 


IDEAL  FEELING. 
CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NATTJRE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF  IDEAL  FEELING. 

§  1.    Nature. — Ideal  vs.  sensuous  feelings,  .        .        .  241 

§  2.     Division. — Ideal  feelings  as  special  and  common. — 

Ideal  pleasure  and  pain, 241-242 

COMMON  IDEAL  FEELING. 
CHAPTER  XIX. 

INTEREST,   REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

§  1.  General  Character  of  Common  Ideal  Feeling:  Interest. — 
Conditions  of  interest. — Interest  of  discrimination. 
— Active  interest. — Interest  of  custom  or  habit. — 
Definition  of  interest. — Interest  as  ideal  emotion,       243-249 

§  2.  Beality-feeling. — Distinction  between  belief  and  real- 
ity-feeling.— Rise  of  reality-feeling. — Rise  of  un- 
reality-feeling.— Degrees  of  reality-  and  unreality- 
feeling,    249-253 

§  3.  Belief. — Doubt. — Development  of  doubt. — Resolution 
of  doubt. — Nature  of  belief. — Reaction  of  belief  on 
reality.— Kinds  of  belief , 253-257 

§  4.  Belief  in  External  Reality. — Its  coefficient. — Primacy 
of  muscular  sensations. — Criteria  of  external 
reality, 257-258 

§  5.     Belief  in  Memory. — Memory-coefficient, — Completed 

criterion  of  reality, 259-261 

§  6.     Belief  in  Concepts  and  ThougJit.—Thought-coemciQnt,     261-262 

§  7.     Emotional  Belief, 262 

§  8.  General  Conclusion. — Composite  realities, — Self  the 
ultimate  reality, — Existence, — Relation  of  belief  to 
will, — Definition  of  belief, — Interest  and  belief,         262-265 


xii 


CONTENTS. 


SPECIAL  IDEAL  FEELINGS. 
(Sluallt^,  or  1kln&0, 

CHAPTER  XX. 

DIVISION  :   PRESENTATIVE  EMOTIONS, 

PAGES 

§  1.    Duision. — General  nature. — Kinds,    ....  266-267 

§  2.     Emotions  of  Activity. — Of  adjustment. — Of  function,  267 

§  3.     Emotions  of  Content, 268 

§4.     Self- Emotions, 269-270 

§  5.     Objective  Emotions, 270 

§  6.     Expressive  Emotions. — Emotions  of    attraction. — Of 

repulsion, 270-273 

§  7.     SympatJietic  Emotion. — Its  nature  and  development. 

—Social  feeling, 273-278 

§  8.     Bepresentative  Emotions, 278 


§1- 
§3. 
§3. 


§4. 
§5. 

§7. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


EMOTIONS    OF    RELATION. 


Logical  Emotion, 

Conceptual  Emotion 

Construction  of  Ideals.. — Nature  of  ideals. — Feeling  of 

fitness 

Range  of  Conceptual  Feeling, 

Feelings  for  System. — In  science. — In  philosophy, 
Etliicdl   Feeling. — Its    coefficient. — Moral  quality. — 

Moral  sympathy. — Moral  authority. — Moral  ideal. 

— Rules  of  conduct, 

JEstlietic  Feeling. — Lower. — Higher. — Varieties  in,     . 
General  Table  of  Feelings, 


279-280 

280-281 

281-284 
284 
284 


284-293 
293-298 


§2. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

QUANTITY  AND  DURATION   OF   EMOTION. 

Quantity  or  Intensity. — Relativity. — Emotional  Ex- 
pression.— Diifusion  of  emotion. — Passion. — The- 
ories of  emotion. — Reproduction  of  emotion. — 
Association  and  conflict  of  emotions, 

Duration  of  Emotion, 


299-306 
306-307 


CONTENTS. 


§3. 
§3. 

§4. 

§5. 
§6. 


PART  IV. 

MOTOR  ASPECTS  OF  SENSUOUS  FEELING. 
CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   MOTOR  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

PAGES 

.  Idea  of  tJie  Motor  Consciousness. — Law  of  mental  dy- 
namogenesis. — Varieties  of  the  motor  conscious- 
ness,              308-309 

Motor  Value  of  tJie  Subconscious,       ....        309-311 
Motor  Value    of  Reactive  Consciousness.  —  Elements 

involved, 311-313 

Feeling  of  Expenditure  in  Reflex  Attention. — Sensorial 

and  intellectual  attention, 313-314 

Theory  of  Refl£x  Attention, 314-316 

Conclusion  on  Reflex  Attention,        ....        316-317 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTARY    MOVEMENT. 

Notion  of  Stimulus. — Kinds  of  motor  stimuli. — Extra- 
organic. — Reflex. — Suggestion  as  motor  stimulus. 
— Organic  stimuli. — Expressive  reactions. — Pleas-        , 
ure  and  pain  as  stimuli. — Nature  of  pleasure  and 
pain  reactions. — Motor  spontaneity,       .        .        .     318-324 

Impulse  and  Instinct. — Impulse. — Definition. — In- 
stinct.—  Complexity  of  instinct. — Definition  of 
instinct. — Variability  of  instinct,        .  .        324^330 

Affective  Nature  of  all  Stimuli  to  Movement. — Affects. 

—Division  of  affects, 330-331 


MOTOR  ASPECTS  OF  IDEAL  FEELING. 
CHAPTER   XXV. 

STIMULI   TO  VOLUNTARY   MOVEMENT. 

§  1.  The  Voluntary  Motor  Consciousness :  General  Stim- 
uli.— Interest. — Affects  as  voluntary  stimuli,         .     332-334 

§  2.  Special  Stimulus :  Desire. — Impulse  in  desire. — Desire 
and  its  objects. — Rise  of  desire. — Tone  of  desire. — 
Coefficient  of  desire. — Physical  basis  of  desire,  334-338 

§  3.     Motive,  ,,....,.,  338 


CONTENTS. 


§3. 

§3. 

§4. 


§5. 
§6. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

FAGES 

Feelings  of  Effort  and  Consent. — Fiat,  psychological 
and  physiological. — Neget,  psychological  and  phys- 
iological.— Consent. — Summary  on  muscular  effort. 
— Muscular  effort  and  the  attention. — Develop- 
ment of  voluntary  movement. — Theory  of  innerva- 
tion,              339-346 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

VOLITION. 

Purpose :  Voluntary  Attention  as  Choice. — Law  of 
motive, — Nature  of  motives. — Volitional  appercep- 
tion.— Controlling  motive. — Deliberation. — Choice. 
— Potential  and  final  choice. — Feeling  of  alterna- 
tives.— Moral  choice. — Choice  and  habit. — Intellec- 
tual effort, 

Character.  —  Development  of  character,  through 
choice, 

Initiation  of  Motives  by  Attention,       .... 

Freedom  of  the  M7^.—Indeterminism.— External  de- 
terminism.— Immanent  determinism. — Freedom  as 
self-expression, — Feeling  of  freedom — of  responsi- 
bility,   

Effects  of  Volition. — Expressive  effects. — Effects 
proper.— Physical  control.— Mental  and  moral 
control,    ,,.......     367-371 

Rational  Aspects  of  Volition. — Intuition  of  power. — 

Intuition  of  obligation, 371-373 


347-358 

358-361 
361-363 


363-367 


GLOSSARY  OF  TERMS.' 


Presentation  :  a  mental  picture  or  image,  any  object  of  knowledge  or  thooght. 

Representation  :  the  same  when  remembered  or  revived. 

Presentative  :  having  reference  to  an  object  of  consciousness. 

Idea  :  a  mental  state  of  any  kind,  considered  as  subject  to  reproduction  or  revival. 

Subjective  :  belonging  to  the  subject,  i.  e.,  to  consciousness  itself. 

Objective  :  belonging  to  things  considered  as  objects  of  consciousness. 

Empirical :  belonging  to  or  derived  from  the  observation  of  events  themselves;  de- 
rived from  experience. 

Experiential :  the  same. 

Empiricism:  the  doctrine  that  all  knowledge  is  derived  exclusively  from  experi- 
ence. 

Intuition  :  (1)  the  act  of  looking  at  directly,  without  a  medium  of  any  kind  ;  (2) 
the  information  reached  by  euch  an  act ;  (.3)  knowledge  is  intuitive  or 
rational  when  it  is  open  to  immediate  inspection,  i.  e.,  needs  no  proof. 

Rational :  applied  to  knowledge  in  about  the  same  sense  as  intuitive,  above. 

Intuitionalism  :  the  doctrine  that  some  knowledge  is  intuitive,  i.  e.,  not  derived 
exclusively  from  experience  ;  opposed  to  Empiricism. 

Phenomenon  :  an  event,  change,  happening,  of  any  kind. 

Synthesis  :  (1)  a  union  of  elements  in  which  these  elements  are  themselves  hidden; 
(2)  the  process  of  uniting  elements  as  described. 

Integration  :  (1)  a  union  of  elements  in  which  these  elements  are  still  evident ;  (2) 
the  process  of  bringing  about  such  a  union  of  elements. 

Function  :  (1)  an  activity,  process,  or  performance  (applied  to  organisms) ;  (2)  an 
expression  for,  or  way  of  stating  a  thing  (mathematical  use)  ;  (3)  a  regular 
appearance  of,  or  event  in  (consciousness  :  use  in  psychology). 

Relative  :  to  a  degree  dependent. 

Absolute  :  not  relative,  independent. 

Content :  material,  or  filling. 

Form  :  that  which  sets  limits  to  a  content ;  that  which  ia  filled. 

Postulate:  si, presupposition. 

Hypothesis  :  a  postulate  put  forth  to  explain  a  set  of  observed  facts. 

Inductive  :  resting  on  observed  facts. 

Deductive  :  guaranteed  by  a  general  principle. 

Affective  :  happening  in  consciousness  but  not  referring  to  an  object ;  opposed  to 
2)resentative. 

Co-efficient :  an  essential  i)eculiarity,  or  distinguishing  mark ;  a  standard,  or 
normal  value. 

Dynamic  :  progressive,  forceful,  causal. 

1  The  best  way  for  the  student  to  become  familiar  with  the  use  of  these  words 
is  simply  to  neglect  this  list  until  he  come  to  the  terms  one  by  one  in  the  body  of 
the  book. 


xvi  REFERENCES. 

Genetic  ;  belonging  to  the  origin  or  birth. 
Reaction  :  response,  stimulated  discharge. 
Sensor  :  stimulating,  or  contnbuting  to,  sensation. 
Motor  :  stimulating,  or  contributing  to,  movement. 
Afferent :  transmitting  toward  the  brain ;  sensor  ;  centripetal. 
Efferent :  transmitting  away  from  the  brain  ;  motor  ;  centrifugal. 
Periphery  :  outside,  surface  (of  the  body). 
Peripheral :  belonging  to  the  periphery. 

Central :  belonging  to,  or  located  in,  the  nerve  centers,  or  gray  matter  of  the 
nervous  system. 


REFERENCES. 


The  student  may  consult  with  profit  the  expositions  given,  from  different  points 
of  view,  in  the  following  works,  where  full  references  to  further  literature  may 
also  be  found  : 

James,  Principles  Of  Psychology  (2  vols.,  Holt  and  Macmillan). 

Hbffding,  Outlines  of  Psychology  CMacmiUan'). 

Sully,  The  Human  Mind  (2  vols.,  Longmans). 

Ladd,  Elements  of  Physiological  Psychology  (Scribners). 

Ribot,  Germaii  Psychology  of  To-day  (Scribners). 

Bain,  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect  (3d  ed.,  Longmans). 

Bain,  The  Emotions  and  the  Will  (3d  ed.,  Longmans). 

Wundt,  Grundzuge  der  Physiologischen  Psychologie  (2  vole.,  3d  ed., 

Engelmann,  Leipzig). 
Wundt,  Vorlesungen  uber  die  Menschen  und  Thierseele  (2d  ed., 

Voes,  Leipzig). 
Volkmann,  Lehrhuch  der  Psychologie  (3d  ed  ,  Schulze,  Cothen). 

References  to  the  author's  Handbook  of  Psychology  (2  vols..  Holt  and  Macmillan) 
are  given  at  the  beginning  of  the  several  chapters  of  this  book. 


ELEMENTS  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 


INTRODUCTION, 


CHAPTER  I. 

NATURE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. » 

§  1.  Definition. 

Subject-matter  of  Psychology.  We  may  define  psy- 
chology as  the  science  of  the  phenomena  of  consciousness, 
being  careful  to  include  consciousness  wherever  and  in 
whatever  stages  it  be  found  ;  or,  if  we  emphasize,  not  so 
much  the  facts  with  which  we  deal,  as  the  mode  of  our 
knowledge  of  these  facts  as  the  science  of  mind  as  ice  know 
it. 

By  "  phenomena  of  consciousness  "  we  mean  happenings 
or  events  in  consciousness,  everything  that  belongs  to  our 
minds  :  sensations,  impulses,  acts  of  will,  reasoning  proc- 
esses, etc. 

The  question  of  psychology  is  :  "  Is  there  an  order  of 
mental  facts  apart  from  the  phenomena  of  the  physical 
sciences  and  especially  physiology  ? "  This  question  is 
sometimes  answered  negatively.  Psychology,  we  are  told 
by  the  materialists,  is  properly  a  branch  of  physiology  : 

^  Handbook,  vol.  i.  chap.  1.  A  footnote  reference  such  as  this  is 
given  at  the  beginning  of  each  of  the  following  chapters  to  indicate 
the  fuller  treatment  of  the  corresponding  topics  in  my  Handbook  of 
Psychology.  Full  references  for  further  reading  are  to  be  found  at 
the  end  of  the  several  chapters  of  the  Handbook. 


2  :  NATURE,  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

since  physiology,  as  the'  science  of  tlie  functions  of  the 
bodily  organs — the  lungs  in  respiration,  the  heart  in  circu- 
lation— includes  the  function  of  the  brain,  which  is  thought. 
Psychology  thus  becomes  a  special  chapter  in  physiology. 

This  identification  of  mental  facts  with  organic  and 
vital  facts  is  wrong.  There  exists  between  the  two  orders 
of  facts  a  radical  opposition  in  several  particulars. 

Distinction  between  Psychological  and  Physiological 
Pacts.  The  opposition  between  these  two  classes  of  facts 
takes  several  distinct  phases. 

I.  Relation  to  Movement.  The  organic  functions  are 
simply  movements  of  the  organs  of  the  body,  that  is, 
movements  of  matter  in  space.  The  functions  of  diges- 
tion and  circulation  are  the  physical  activity  of  their 
respective  organs,  and  the  science  of  such  functions  is 
nothing  more  than  the  complete  knowledge  of  these 
movements.  With  thought  or  feeling  the  case  is  very 
different.  Without  doubt  thought  has  some  of  its  con- 
ditions in  the  brain,  and  yet  we  cannot  say  that  thought  is 
movement.  The  most  that  can  be  said,  by  the  most  ad- 
vanced materialism,  is  that  thought  is  an  effect  or  result  of 
cerebral  movement.  Let  the  movement  be  what  it  may 
and  let  the  mental  fact  be  what  it  may,  there  is  nothing  in 
common  between  them.  Something  must  be  added  to 
movement  to  give  feeling.  The  fullest  know^ledge  of  the 
brain  would  not  lead  us  to  suspect  the  existence  of  such  a 
thing  as  thought  if  we  did  not  know  it  already  in  con- 
sciousness. If  an  animal  for  example,  says  M.  Rabier,  ex- 
perienced sensations  quite  different  from  any  we  know,  the 
most  exact  knowledge  of  what  takes  place  in  the  brain  of 
the  animal  would  throw  no  light  upon  their  nature  ;  just 
as  full  knowledge  of  the  auditory  and  visual  apparatus 
gives  no  idea  of  sound  or  color  to  the  man  born  deaf  or 
blind. 

For  this  reason,  we  cannot  speak  of  thought  as  occupy- 
ing space  or  as  having  exact  locality.     All  such  forms  of 


SUBJECT-MATTER.  3 

expression  will  be  seen,  upon  examination,  to  refer  properly 
to  the  physiological  accompaniment  of  thought.  For  ex- 
ample, we  speak  of  the  localization  of  speech  in  Broca's  con- 
volution ;  but  it  is  the  brain  modification  which  accom- 
panies speech  that  is  there  located.  Suppose  all  our  words 
were  impressed  upon  the  brain,  making  it,  as  some  seem 
to  consider  it,  a  kind  of  magazine  of  photographic  plates, 
still  the  great  mental  essential,  consciousness,  might  be 
wanting. 

II.  Relation  to  measurement:  mental  facts,  unlike 
physical  facts,  cannot  be  directly  measured.  For  the  meas- 
urement of  external  magnitudes  extension  affords  us  at 
once  definite  and  constant  standards  ;  but  for  states  of  con- 
sciousness we  have  no  such  exact  means  of  procedure.  The 
fact  that  mental  events  are  subjective  in  their  nature  makes 
them  liable  to  all  the  uncertainties  of  subjective  estimation. 
This  difficulty  is  further  enhanced  by  the  consideration 
that  the  mental  fact  is  always  associated  with  a  physical 
fact,  and  it  is  impossible  to  isolate  the  former.  Tliis  is 
seen  in  both  the  cases  in  which  physical  measurements  seem 
to  be  most  successful  :  in  the  measurement  of  the  duration 
of  mental  acts  and  of  the  quantity  or  intensity  of  sensa- 
tions. In  the  former  case  we  proceed  upon  the  supposi- 
tion that  time  standards  can  be  employed  for  mind  as 
space  standards  for  body  :  but  the  time  occupied  by  the 
cerebral  event  is  so  interwoven  with  that  of  the  mental 
that  it  has  proved  impossible  to  separate  them. 

III.  Mental  states  are  distinguished  from  physical  states 
in  the  means  through  which  they  are  knoicn.  As  modifi- 
cations of  matter,  ph^'sical  facts  are  known  through  the 
senses.  Bodily  functions  are  thus  laid  open  to  the  gaze  of 
the  physician  and  the  anatomist.  The  brain  itself  may  be 
observed  in  its  activities  after  the  operation  of  trepanning. 
But  mental  states  escape  all  such  observation.  They  are 
known,  on  the  contrary,  in  an  immediate  way  through  the 
consciousness  of  the  individual.     And  while  we  are  able  to 


4  NATURE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

observe  and  analyze  the  physical  processes  of  others,  our 
immediate  knowledge  of  mind  is  limited  to  ourselves. 

IV.  TTie  most  essential  characteristic  of  mental  states  is 
their  subjective  nature;  what  we  may  call  their  inner  as- 
X)ect,  in  the  phraseology  of  late  science.  By  this  is  meant 
that  relation  to  a  self  or  subject  that  makes  them  what  the}^ 
are  in  distinction  from  outer  phenomena,  which,  as  far  as  we 
know,  have  an  existence  apart  from  such  a  reference.  This 
distinction  is  admitted  even  by  those  who  reduce  the  two 
classes  of  phenomena  ultimately  to  a  single  i^rinciple. 
This  fact  of  a  self  affected  becomes  in  developed  mental 
states  a  matter  of  reflection  and  differentiation  from  the 
not-self  ;  a  distinction  arising,  as  will  appear,  within  the 
inner  aspect,  and  impossible  without  such  a  subjective 
beginning. 

V.  The  method  of  mental  activity  is  quite  distinct  from 
that  of  the  physical  forces.  As  we  proceed  we  shall  find  a 
constantly  recurring  fact  of  mental  sj^ntbesis  whereb}'',  b}" 
conscious  mental  activity,  states  of  consciousness  are 
gathered  and  unified  in  new  products  themselves  appar- 
ently simple  and  original.  In  the  physical  world  we  find 
no  such  unifying  force  as  that  known  in  psychology  as  the 
activity  of  apperception.* 

True  Relation  of  Psychology  to  Physiology.  These  two 
orders  of  facts  lead  us  to  two  distinct  sciences — equall}^ 
sciences  of  fact  or  natural  sciences.  Psychology  cannot  be  a 
chapter  of  physiology,  because  the  methods  and  results  of 
physiology  do  not  reach  nor  involve  mental  data.  One  is 
a  subjective  science  and  the  other  is  an  objective  science, 
and  the  difference  is  strictly  experiential. 

The  absolute  separation  of  psychology  from  physiology, 
however,  in  point  of  matter,  does  not  imply  their  independ- 
ence of  each  other  in  point  of  fact.  They  are  united  in 
fact  by  a  bond  which  finds  analogy  only  in  that  which 
unites  the  science  of  the  inorganic,  chemistry,  with  that  of 
life^  biology.  Life  introduces  a  new  series  of  phenomena 
'  'i'reatcd  below, 


DIFFICULTIES  AXD  ERRORS.  5 

into  nature,  but  the  morphological  changes  it  produces  are 
accomplished  only  through  the  processes  of  inorganic 
or  chemical  change.  So  psychologv,  while  introducing  a 
new  order  of  phenomena,  proceeds  immediately  upon  the 
data  of  physiological  change.  The  connection  of  the  two 
is  as  real  as  their  separation.  The  physiologist  often 
finds  the  causes  of  organic  modification  (facial  expression) 
in  the  movements  of  the  mind,  and  the  psychologist 
likewise  finds  causes  for  mental  modification  (sensation)  in 
states  and  functions  of  the  body. 

§  2.  Difficulties  and  Errors  ix  Psychology. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  consciousness  is  the  one 
characteristic  of  what  we  denominate  mental.  The  diffi- 
culties and  errors,  therefore,  that  arise  in  psychology  must 
be  difficulties  and  errors  either  in  the  reports  or  in  the  in- 
terpretation of  consciousness.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
there  are  such  difficulties  and  errors,  for  otherwise  the 
science  would  be  much  more  developed  than  it  is.  They 
cannot  arise  in  the  actual  reports  of  consciousness,  for  by 
its  intimate  nature  as  immediate  feeling  of  inner  states  it 
reveals  what  actually  is  and  happens.  Considered,  then,  as 
arising  from  the  interpretation  or  mental  building  up  of 
the  data  of  consciousness,  several  kinds  of  error  may  be 
pointed  out. 

I.  Difficulty  of  distinguishing  Consciousness  from 
Association  and  Inference.  The  primitive  data  of  con- 
sciousness are  no  longer  presented  simply  in  adult  life,  but 
carry  with  them  a  mass  of  complex  and  derived  material. 
"Hardly  has  consciousness  spoken,"  says  Mill,  "  when  its 
testimony  is  buried  under  a  mountain  of  acquired  notions." 
The  fact  that  there  is  a  higher  and  lower  in  the  mental 
life — a  development  from  first  things — is  sufficient  to  show 
the  reason  of  this  confusion.  For  example,  we  shall  find 
in  studying  sense-perception  that  the  localization  of  things 
in  space,  which  seems  to  be  an  immediate  act  of  conscious' 


6  natuhb  of  psychology. 

ness,  is  really  due  to  a  very  complicated  construction  from 
data  of  sensation,  and  the  general  process  of  memory 
carries  with  it  an  instinctive  belief  in  the  reality  of  our 
images,  due  largely  to  association,  which  leads  us  often  into 
illusion.  So  marked  do  these  difficulties  and  confusions 
become  in  the  higher  processes  that  some  additional  safe- 
guard must  be  resorted  to  :  some  method  of  reducing  com- 
plex mental  states  to  the  simple  data  of  consciousness. 
This  resort  is  found  in  Conscious  Heflection. 

Use  of  Reflection.  Even  though  the  necessity  spoken 
of  did  not  exist,  still  simple  consciousness,  however  clear, 
would  not  be  sufficient  for  science.  Consciousness  is 
knowledge  of  present  states,  new  and  revived,  and  gives  us 
only  a  play  of  present  conditions.  The  scientific  observa- 
tion of  mind  demands  more  than  this.  It  demands  the 
turning  back  of  the  powers  of  thought  and  reason  upon  our 
immediate  knowledge  for  its  examination,  testing,  system- 
atization.  Simple  observation  does  not  suffice  for  the 
science  of  physics,  nor  will  it,  for  the  same  reason,  for  the 
science  of  psychology. 

By  reflection,  therefore,  consciousness  itself  becomes  a 
matter  of  consciousness.  To  observe  consciousness  I  must 
stand  aside,  so  to  speak,  apart  from  myself  and  report  what 
takes  place  in  myself.  If  it  is  attention  which  I  wish  to 
observe,  I  must  attend  to  the  act  of  attention,  in  order  to 
describe  it.  There  is  in  such  reflection  a  species  of  sec- 
ondary or  subordinate  consciousness,  from  the  ground  of 
which  we  look  in  upon  our  primary  self.  This  apparent 
doubleness,  or  the  effort  to  place  ourselves  beyond  the  range 
of  our  own  states  in  reflection,  leads  to  new  sources  of  diffi- 
culty. 

II.  Disturbing  Effects  of  Reflection.  Reflection,  con- 
sidered as  the  turning  in  of  the  mental  processes  upon 
themselves,  necessarilj^,  by  a  great  law  of  attention,  exerts 
a  disturbing  influence.  All  our  mental  states  are  rendered 
more  intense  by  the  attention:^  consequently  as  soon  as  the 
'  Treated  below. 


SUPPLEMEXTARY  SOURCES.  7 

state  observed  comes  within  the  range  of  fruitful  observa- 
tion, it  is  changed,  both  in  its  own  integrity  and  in  its  rel- 
ative importance  in  the  mental  life.  A  pain  attended  to, 
for  the  express  purpose  of  estimating  its  intensity,  becomes 
more  intense.  Operations,  also,  which  demand  close  appli- 
cation or  successive  mental  efforts,  are  completely  suspend- 
ed by  reflection.  A  difiicult  logical  problem  or  musical 
performance  becomes  more  difficult  or  impossible  of  accom- 
plishment when,  by  reflection,  we  note  the  stages  of  the 
process.  Mental  effectiveness  seems  to  require  a  single  di- 
rection of  consciousness.  On  the  other  hand,  also,  certain 
states  of  mind  make  reflection  impossible,  their  temporary 
importance  in  consciousness  being  overpowering  :  such  as 
strong  fear,  anger,  and  the  emotions  generally.  But  psy- 
chology, as  a  science,  cannot  dispense  with  the  complete 
knowledge  of  such  states,  since  they  are  sometimes  most 
important  and  enlightening.  Indeed  aggravated  states, 
especially  when  they  become  manifestations  of  mental  dis- 
ease, generally  cast  most  light  on  the  normal  processes  from 
which  they  arise. 

Means  of  Remedying  these  Difaculties:  Supplemen- 
tary Psychological  Sources.  In  view  of  these  limitations, 
the  psychologist  is  thrown  back  upon  any  other  means  he 
may  command  to  correct,  complement,  and  enlarge  the 
scope  of  reflection.  In  general  these  supplementary^  sources 
of  information  are  internal  and  external. 

I.  Internal  Source :  Memory.  The  errors  of  internal  re- 
flection which  arise  from  the  deranging  effects  of  attention 
may  be  remedied  in  large  part  by  memory.  Mental  states 
which  cannot  be  madetlie  object  of  immediate  examination 
in  the  present,  may  be  recalled  from  the  past  and  held  before 
the  attention  as  reproduced  images.  The  facility  with 
which  the  mind  does  this  is  quite  remarkable.  Frequently 
an  experience  which  is  obscure  or  meaningless,  an  unknown 
sound,  an  unrecognized  face,  a  vision,  is  thus  recalled  and 
given  a    rational    explanation.     The    psychologist    often 


8  NATURE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

catches  liiraself  just  emerging  from  a  state  before  almost 
unconscious,  which,  being  brought  back  in  vivid  detail,  is 
of  especial  value  and  frnitfulness  for  his  psychological 
theory. 

This  fact  of  memory  is  further  strengthened  by  the 
phenomenon  of  after  images  or  after  sensations — traces  left 
in  the  mental  life  after  the  actual  stimuli  have  ceased  to 
act.  Of  these  we  shall  speak  more  in  detail.  There  is  a 
vibratory  persistence  in  the  nervous  organism  which  tends 
to  continue  the  central  process  and  its  accompanying 
mental  state.  And  the  same  residuum  or  after-effect  is 
also  j^robably  a  mental  necessity,  since  time  is  needed  for 
the  shifting  movements  of  attention  in  its  transition  to  new 
experiences  ;  during  this  period  there  is  notliing  to  drive 
the  former  experience  from  consciousness,  and  it  persists  a 
noticeable  time. 

II.  External  Sources.  If  it  is  impossible  to  deny  the 
utility  of  inner  observation,  it  is  almost  equally"  dangerous  to 
depend  upon  it  exclusively.  Failure  to  resort  unceasingly 
and  repeatedly  to  external  observation  at  every  stage  of 
our  stud}^  leads  to  tlie  most  chimerical  subjective  systems 
and  the  most  one-sided  views  of  life.  So  evident  is  this 
that,  even  when  most  strongly  emphasizing  the  inner 
source  of  data,  psychologists  have  found  it  necessary  to  la}^ 
hold  upon  whatever  certified  records  of  others'  experiences 
in  health  or  disease  they  found  available,  and  held  them 
up  as  valuable.  Among  these  external  sources  we  may 
enumerate  the  following,  to  which  it  will  be  necessary 
from  time  to  time  to  refer  : 

1.  JRace  Psychology.  This  is,  in  the  first  place,  the 
study  of  mind  in  its  social  characteristics,  and  in  its  prod- 
ucts in  society,  the  state,  religions,  customs,  and  institu- 
tions. It  accepts  all  the  results  of  anthropology  and  views 
them  as  tlie  manifestations  of  the  mind.  It  examines 
ancient  philosophies,  cults,  and  civilizations  ;  literatures, 
history,  laws,  mythologies,  traditions,  the   sources    from 


EXTERNAL  SOURCES.  9 

whicli  tlie  human  mind  has  drawn  its  culture  in  all  ages. 
It  values  the  reports  of  travelers  in  respect  to  savages, 
lieathen,  and  degenerate  races  ;  the  conditions  of  social 
life  everywhere.  For  in  all  these  manifestations  of  the 
life  of  the  human  mind,  we  have  direct  information  respect- 
ing its  nature  and  capacities. 

2.  Animal  or  Comparative  Psychology.  -  As  might  be 
expected,  the  study  of  animals  is  of  extreme  importance 
for  our  science  ;  for  animals  show^  striking  evidences  of 
the  i^lienomena  of  consciousness  both  in  its  lower  and  in 
many  of  its  higher  forms.  It  is  perhaps  destined,  judg- 
ing from  the  contributions  it  has  already  made  to  some 
departments  of  research,  to  throw  as  much  light  upon 
human  psychology  as  comparative  anatomy  has  upon 
human  physiology.  As  is  tlie  case  with  many  physical 
functions,  so  certain  intellectual  states  are  seen  in  animals 
in  a  less  developed  and  complex  state,  or  in  a  more  sharp- 
ened and  predominant  state,  than  in  man  ;  and  thus  the 
necessit}^  for  a  genetic  study  of  tliese  states  is  met  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree.  Instinct,  for  example,  attains  its 
most  perfect  form  in  animals,  memory  is  often  remarkably 
developed,  and  certain  of  their  senses  show  a  degree  of 
acuteness  which  we  would  never  expect  the  corresponding 
human  senses  to  possess.  And  the  study  of  animals  for 
psychological  purposes  is  not  limited  to  observation  of 
their  habits,  productive  as  such  observation  is  ;  but  the 
physiological  method  is  capable  of  much  more  extended 
use  than  in  experiment  upon  man.  Condemned  animals 
may  be  directly  used  for  purposes  of  neurological  research 
under  conditions  which  rule  out  all  pain  to  the  creatures. 
The  variety  of  problems  which  may  thus  be  reached  is 
limited  only  by  our  ability  to  state  them  and  our  ingenuity 
in  planning  the  experiments. 

3.  Infant  Psychology.  The  importance  of  the  early 
study  of  mind  is  to  be  equally  insisted  upon.  By  it  mental 
facts  are  reached,  as  far  as  ihej  ever  can  be,  at  their  origin 


10  NATURE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  in  their  simplest  form.  It  is  more  important  to  know 
what  mind  is  than  what  it  becomes.  The  child  serves  to 
correct  the  reports  of  adult  life  by  opening  up  object  les- 
sons in  the  growth  of  mind.  At  the  outset  the  child  mind 
is  lower  than  the  highest  animal  mind,  since,  while  its 
human  possibilities  have  not  emerged,  its  instinctive  equip- 
ment is  not  as'varied  as  that  of  animals  ;  but  in  its  rapid 
development  it  exhibits  the  unfoldings  of  organic  mental 
growth  in  correspondence  with  the  growth  of  the  bodily 
system,  an  advantage  found  in  none  of  the  other  fields  of 
observation.* 

4.  Abnormal  Psychology.  As  in  the  former  sources  of 
information  we  deal  with  mind  in  health  here  we  come 
to  consider  it  in  disease  :  that  is,  Ave  look  to  all  abnormal 
or  diseased  conditions  of  the  mental  life  for  light  upon 
its  nature  and  upon  its  legitimate  operations.  It  includes 
all  cases  of  variation  from  the  normal  and  healthy  activity 
of  conscious  mind  :  sleep-walking,  dreams,  insanity  in 
its  multiplied  forms,  loss  of  memory,  loss  of  speech, 
hypnotism,  idiocy,  hallucination,  disturbances  of  conscious- 
ness generally.  All  these  variations  aiford — as  such  varia- 
tions in  any  science  afford — instructive  views  into  the 
working  of  mind  in  its  most  intimate  character.  And  the 
reason  for  this  is  plain.  Such  cases  offer  immediate  occa- 
sion for  the  application  of  the  logical  method  of  difference^ 
which  consists  in  removing  part  of  a  cause  or  effect  and 
observing  tlie  consequent  variations  in  the  corresponding 
effect  or  cause.  This  procedure  enables  us  to  attach  an 
effect  to  its  true  cause.  One  most  general  result  of  the 
study  of  mental  disease,  for  example,  is  this,  that  we  have 
learned  to  seek  its  cause  in  diseased  conditions  of  the  body, 
rather  than  in  obscure  mental  movements  or  supernatural 
influences.  It  has  been  well  said  that  a  man  deprived  of 
one  of  his  senses  from  birth  is  a  subject  especially  prepared 

'  On  the  problem  and  method  of  Infant  Psychology,  see  my  article 
in  Science,  December  26,  1890. 


UNITY  OF  SOXTRCES.  11 

by  nature  for  the  application  of  tlie  method  of  difference. 
The  science  of  mental  disease  and  its  cure  is  called  Psy- 
chiatry. 

§  3.  UxiTY  OF  Psychological  Sources  in  Consciousness. 
From  tlie  external  standpoint,  psychology  stands  upon 
a  level  with  the  other  sciences  of  observation  ;  but  by  the 
addition  of  inner  experience  it  attains  a  unity  they  do  not 
possess.  The  medium  of  all  observation  of  nature,  con- 
sciousness, which  does  not  enter  as  part  of  the  material  of 
other  sciences  but  often  acts  as  a  hindering  cause,  here 
serves  within  the  circle  of  the  science  itself  a  useful  and 
important  role.  The  interpretation  of  facts,  called  in 
science  the  "  personal  equation,"  is  in  psychology  an  act  of 
essential  value,  since  data  for  psj^chology  can  be  explained 
only  from  the  point  of  view  of  mind.  In  short,  external 
observation,  which  is  necessarily  of  the  physical,  and  of 
the  mental  only  through  the  physical,  must  be  translated 
into  the  forms  of  our  own  inner  life.  The  ultimate  basis, 
tlierefore,  of  psychological  interpretation  and  construction 
is  the  mental  experience  of  the  individual,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
normal  and  typical. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD. » 

§  1.  Principles  of  Scientific  Method. 

In  G-eneral.  The  question  of  method  is  an  important  pre- 
liminary to  all  scientific  work.  It  involves  the  two  great 
questions,  first,  what  is  the  destination,  and  second,  what  is 
the  road  to  the  destination.  In  the  preceding  chapter,  in  the 
consideration  of  the  subject-matter  of  psycliology,  the  for- 
mer has  been  considered.  It  remains  to  inquire  into  the 
latter  ;  through  what  means  or  by  what  kind  of  procedure 
shall  we  investigate  tlie  matter  before  us  in  order  to  reach 
the  most  general  and  exhaustive  results  ? 

This  problem  is  practically  solved  for  us  in  the  method 
of  the  objective  sciences.  For  if,  as  has  been  said,  psychol- 
ogy is  a  science  of  fact,  as  they  are,  and  proceeds  by  the 
observation  of  a  given  class  of  facts,  as  they  do,  then  the 
tried  method  of  procedure  which  they  employ  will  be  most 
productive  here. 

True  scientific  method  includes  the  three  following 
processes,  the  first  two  of  which  belong  more  properly  to 
Induction.^  First,  Observation  y  by  which  is  meant  the 
widest  possible  appeal  to  fact,  by  way  of  an  actual  under- 
standing of  the  cases  in  hand.  It  must  be  extended 
to  include  all  reliable  testimony.  The  .  broad  defining 
marks  of  the  material  treated  of  become  thus  apparent  and 
great  classes  are  reached.  This  constitutes  natural  history, 
rather  than  natural  science  ;  it  describes  the  subject-matter 
but  does  not  explain  it.    Second,  Experiment;  which  consists 

'  Handbook,  vol.  i.  chap.  ii. 

2  On  Induction  and  Deduction  see  the  chapter  on  Thought, 

J3 


OBSERVATIOX,  13 

in  the  varying  of  the  conditions  under  which  the  facts 
are  observed.  It  leads  to  the  discovery  of  essential  reasons 
or  causes.  It  proceeds  by  certain  subordinate  methods  or 
canons  of  its  own,  called  since  Mill  "  canons  of  induction." 
The  product  of  experimental  research  is  the  Hypothesis 
or  Empirical  Law  :  a  more  or  less  probable  conjecture, 
based  upon  the  results  of  experimentation,  as  to  the  true 
cause  operating  in  the  case  in  hand.  This  is,  in  so  far, 
no  longer  a  description  merelj^,  but  an  explanation.  Third, 
Deduction  /  which  is  the  final  stage  in  scientific  method. 
By  it  the  general  principle  set  forth  in  the  hypothesis  is 
made  applicable  to  successive  individual  cases,  and  by  a 
new  appeal  to  experience  the  truth  of  this  application  is 
made  sure.  Each  such  successful  application  tends  to 
establisli  tlie  hypothesis  more  firml}^  until  it  reaches  the 
rank  of  a  principle  or  Law  of  Nature. 

§  2.  Application  of   Scientific  Method    to 
Psychology. 

The  application  to  psychology  of  the  principles  of  method 
just  mentioned  is,  in  the  main,  clear  :  yet  many  questions 
of  lively  debate  arise  in  consistently  carrying  them  out. 
The  two  great  spheres  of  their  operation  are  the  two  sources 
of  psychological  data,  internal  and  external. 

Psychological  Observation.  I.  Internal.  As  a  means  of 
access  to  the  phenomena  of  mind  we  find  available  three 
distinct  phases  of  inner  observation.  In  the  first  place,  the 
simple  fact  of  Consciousness,  that  inner  aspect  which  makes 
mental  facts  what  they  are,  in  its  primitive  form,  is  at  once 
awareness  of  the  states  of  self.  However  vague  and  in- 
definite this  primitive  awareness  is  at  first,  it  is  still  a 
beginning.  There  is  no  experience  in  conscious  life 
which  leaves  absolutely  no  trace  of  itself.  Once  it  is 
an  experience,  a  modification  of  subjectivity ;  then  it  may 
become  the  object  of  the  developed  act  of  inner  obser- 
vation.    The    first  fleeting  sensations  of  the  child,  when 


14  PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD. 

there  is  no  subject  or  object,  no  store  of  memory  images,  no 
idea  of  self,  exhibit  in  isolation  the  kind  of  primitive  con- 
sciousness that  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  knowledge  of  self.  In 
adult  life  these  experiences  are  assimilated  to  the  developed 
forms  of  intellect  and  their  separate  meaning  is  lost.  But 
in  this  category  are  included  the  vast  number  of  first  experi- 
ences as  they  pass  steadily  on  in  time,  something  every 
moment ;  and  all  the  information  we  glean  from  them  before 
we  recall,  examine,  and  reflect  upon  them.  Second,  the 
state  of  mind  called  Primary -memory :  the  lingering  in 
consciousness  of  an  event  just  after  the  event  itself  is 
gone.  The  immediate  past  hangs  around  us  as  a  line  of 
trailing  cloud  on  the  horizon  of  consciousness.  So  speedy 
and  involuntary^  is  this  presence  of  the  shortly-past  that  it 
is  sometimes  considered  the  first  stage  of  our  inner  observa- 
tion  ;  yet  this  cannot  be  held  in  the  sense  of  denying  the 
immediate  awareness  of  the  primitive  consciousness.  For 
example  a  loud  noise,  or  a  spoken  word,  may  be  unintelli- 
gible until  its  quick  recall  enables  us  to  recognize  it.  We 
have  had,  in  these  cases,  the  "  immediate  awareness  "  of 
the  first  event,  but  the  examination  of  the  after-image 
which  it  leaves  adds  much  to  the  scientific  value  of  the 
experience.  Third,  we  reach  Reflection,  or  conscious 
observation.  By  reflection  is  meant  the  inspection  of 
the  events  of  the  inner  world  as  distinct  objects  of  our 
knowledge.  It  is  the  highest  form  of  internal  observation. 
Thus,  by  reflection,  inner  happenings  are  built  up  into 
hypotheses  concerning  the  nature  and  processes  of  the  men- 
tal life.  This  constitutes  the  point  of  departure  for  the 
second  stage  in  the  finished  scheme  of  method. 

II.  External  Observation.  By  the  method  of  external 
observation  we  approach  the  various  external  sources  of 
psychological  data  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter.  The 
closed  nature  of  the  individual  consciousness  makes  it  im- 
possible that  the  consciousness  of  others  should  be  reached 
except  through  the  interpreted  meaning  of  external  signs. 


EXPERIMENT.  15 

All  the  products  of  human  genius  and  culture  become  thus 
the  objects  of  observation,  with  a  view  to  bringing  the  de- 
tached parts  of  truth  thus  discovered  into  liarmony  with 
our  individual  experience.  So,  also,  the  observation  of 
children  and  animals  brings  its  rich  contribution. 

By  simple  observation,  however,  in  psychology,  as 
is  the  case  in  the  material  sciences,  we  do  not  reach 
below  the  surface.  Many  claim  that  this  is  all  that  we 
can  do,  and  that  a  description  of  mental  facts  is  the  true 
aim  of  the  science.  Yet,  as  rare  as  true  description  is 
in  this  field,  and  as  broad  a  field  for  analysis  as  simple  ob- 
servation affords,  we  find  ourselves  asking  :  Is  there  no 
means  of  breaking  up  the  complex  groups  of  mental 
states,  of  detaching  individual  mental  movements  from  the 
enormous  mass  of  interwoven  threads  which  our  adult 
thought  presents?  In  short,  is  there  no  field  for  experi- 
ment, either  internal  or  external,  in  psychology?  We 
answer,  as  recent  research  is  answering,  that  there  is — 
but  with  important  conditions  and  qualifications. 

§  3.  Experiment  ix  Psychology. 
The  need  of  experiment  in  psychology  is  exceedingly 
great.  When  we  remember  that,  in  the  search  for  causes  in 
the  natural  world,  tlie  difficulties  are  vastl}'-  enhanced  by 
the  fact  tliat  single  causes  are  never  found  at  work  alone, 
and  tliat  it  is  the  function  of  experiment  so  to  eliminate 
elements  in  a  causal  complex,  that  isolated  agencies  may  be 
observed  at  work  ;  and  when  we  further  reflect  that  no 
single  function  of  mind  is  ever  found  operating  alone,  but 
that  all  accompany  and  modify  each — the  inadequacy  of 
simple  observation  in  this  field  becomes  apparent.  A 
sense  stimulation,  for  example,  may  arouse  an  intellectual 
train,  an  emotional  outburst,  a  course  of  action  ;  are  all 
these  the  effects  of  a  single  cause  ?  A  course  of  action, 
conversely,  may  result  from  an  emotion,  a  thought,  a 
pjemory,  an  association,   a  sensation,  an  inspiration  ;  cau 


16  PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD. 

the  simple  description  of  the  resulting  action  indicate 
which  is  its  cause  ?  Antecedents  and  consequents  are 
thrown  into  the  mental  life  in  inextricable  confusion.  Ex- 
ternal or  bodily  causes — ^an  odor,  a  spoken  word,  a  pain,  an 
internal  organic  movement — may  start  a  train.  This  train 
may  be  hindered  or  advanced  by  a  thousand  considerations 
or  emotions  ;  other  bodily  or  mental  causes  may  modify  it. 
And  all  together  make  up  the  cause  or  complex  antecedent 
state  ;  while  vague  analogies  of  thought  and  feeling,  such 
as  temperament,  heredity,  education,  make  variations 
between  individuals,  and  the  present  condition  of  the 
brain  and  nerve  centers  makes  variations  in  the  same  in- 
dividual. How  can  we  single  out  the  cause,  in  this  net- 
work, by  observation  ?  It  is  as  vain  as  to  discover  the 
cause  of  a  conflagration  from  examining  the  blaze  ;  was  it  a 
match,  lightning,  friction,  chemical  composition  ?  Only 
one  step  can  determine  :  the  reconstruction,  under  artificial 
circumstances,  of  the  conditions,  and  the  endeavor  to 
exhibit  a  single  isolated  cause.  This  is  experiment.  We 
may  look  at  the  case,  as  before,  from  the  points  of  view  of 
the  internal  and  external  approach  to  mind. 

I.  Internal  Experiment.  The  range  of  internal  experi- 
ment is  very  contracted,  from  the  fact  that  it  is  hard  to 
induce  artificial  states  of  mind  entirely  from  within.  Yet 
we  can  often  suggest  things  to  ourselves  that  change  the 
course  of  our  thought  and  give  us  a  plainly  isolated  effect. 
We  can  force  ourselves  into  lines  of  thought  or  emotion 
by  holding  given  images  fixedly  before  the  mind — such  as 
a  shocking  murder  or  the  death  of  a  close  friend — and 
watch  the  result  in  the  flow  of  emotion.  On  a  larger  scale 
one  can  subject  himself  to  a  series  of  intellectual  influences 
and  note  the  change  it  works  in  his  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling.  The  actor  has  thus  constantly  to  experiment  with 
his  emotional  states,  cultivating  those  which  adequately 
portray  the  character  he  represents.  All  such  intentional 
manipulation  of  consciousness,  however,  demands  a  high 


EX  PER  I  ME  XT.  17 

degree  of  mental  control  and  concentration,  great  delicacy 
of  observation  and  fidelity  of  description,  to  be  of  use  for 
the  general  science. 

Experiment  of  this  kind,  however,  is  more  effective  upon 
others  than  upon  ourselves.  Tiie  whole  possibility  of  sug- 
gestion to  others  is  here  open  to  our  touch,  and  we  may 
play  upon  their  emotions,  hopes,  ambitions,  plans,  ideas,  as 
upon  the  keyboard  of  an  instrument.  AVe  are  all  more  or 
less  skilled  in  such  experiment  ;  we  suit  our  advice  to 
the  man — offering  a  money  inducement  to  one,  a  posi- 
tion of  honor  to  another.  So  educational  methods  proceed 
upon  experimental  know^ledge  of  others  :  the  awarding  of 
prizes,  the  use  of  object  lessons,  appeals  to  individual  man- 
liness, corporeal  punishment  ;  indeed  all  discrimination  in 
the  treatment  of  children  proceeds  upon  such  experimental 
knowledge.  In  the  hypnotic  state  and  in  infant  life '  an 
unlimited  range  of  suggestion  is  open  to  the  investigator, 
and  in  sleep  the  same  kind  of  influence  is  possible  though 
to  a  much  more  limited  degree. 

II.  External  Experiment.  The  possibility  of  finding 
that  a  bodih^  or  external  cause  has  been  the  determining 
factor  in  a  mental  result,  opens  up  to  our  view  the  sphere 
of  external  experiment.  We  are  at  once  led  to  see  that 
a  series  of  experiments  upon  the  body  may  be  devised, 
and  the  results  ascertained  which  follow  in  the  conscious 
life  ;  that  is,  reversing  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
which  ordinarily  obtains,  we  may  consider  bodily  modifica- 
tions cause  and  their  accompanying  mental  modifications 
effects  ;  thus  isolating  mental  facts  through  artificial  and 
single  physiological  stimuli. 

That  such  a  procedure  is  justified  is  seen  from  the  fact 
that  our  daily  lives  are  full  of  inferences  of  this  kind. 
The  connection  between  the  physical  and  the  mental  is  so 
close  and  unquestioned  that  we  never  fail  to  take  it  into 

'  See  my  article  "  Suggestion  in  Infancy,"  in  Science,  February  37, 
1891. 


18  PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD. 

account.  Many  states  of  mind  are  treated  as  arising  di- 
rectly from  states  of  the  body.  The  whole  treatment  of 
mental  disease  proceeds  upon  this  basis  ;  and  sensations, 
the  material  of  knowledge,  are  known  to  arise  from  direct 
sense-stimulation.  The  effects  of  alcoholic  stimulants 
upon  the  mind  are  plain.  The  elevation,  however,  of  this 
rough  sense  of  connection  between  mind  and  body  into  a 
law  of  scientific  method  is  only  now  getting  general  recog- 
nition. Its  results  constitute  what  is  called  "  physiologi- 
cal psychology." 

General  Conclusion.  We  are  thus  led  to  the  following 
general  conclusion  as  to  the  nature  and  method  of  psycho- 
logical inquiry  :  There  is,  first  of  all,  in  consciousness  a 
kind  of  activity  which  affords  at  once  the  necessity  and 
the  justification  of  a  higher  science,  inductive,  internal, 
descriptive,  and  analytic  ;  that  its  method  is  that  of  direct 
observation  ;  and  that,  inasmuch  as  the  phenomena  of 
which  it  is  cognizant  are  purely  mental,  it  must  precede 
and  embrace  those  branches  of  the  science  which  deal  wdth 
the  phenomena  of  body.  Second,  these  mental  phenomena 
sustain  an  universal  and  uniform  connection  with  the  bodily 
organism  through  which  physiological  experiment  becomes 
possible,  carrying  with  it  a  twofold  utility  :  the  causal 
analysis  of  phenomena  and  the  confirmation  of  their  em- 
pirical generalizations.  And  third,  the  science  can  never 
reach  completion,  or  its  laws  attain  their  widest  generality, 
until  all  mental  facts  are  interpreted  in  the  light  of  this 
connection  with  body  or  shown  to  be  independent  of  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM.^ 
§  1.  Its  Structure. 

The  fact  that  body  and  mind  are  connected  so  closely, 
and  that  true  psycliological  method  must  proceed  upon 
this  connection,  makes  some  preliminary  knowledge  neces- 
sary of  the  nervous  system  and  its  functions. 

Nerve-elements.  As  far  as  our  knowledge  goes,  Ave 
are  able  to  make  a  twofold  distinction  among  the  elements 
called  nervous,  nerve-fibers  and  nerve-cells.  As  to  what 
these  are,  the  general  meaning  ordinarily  attached  to  the 
words  expresses  about  the  amount  of  knowledge  physiol- 
ogists possess.  That  is,  a  nerve-fiber  is  a  thread-like  con- 
nection between  different  muscular  and  cellular  masses.  A 
greater  or  smaller  number  of  these  white  thread-like  fibers 
may  unite  together  to  constitute  a  "  nerve,"  which  connects 
an  organ  (muscle,  gland,  etc.)  with  a  greater  or  smaller 
mass  of  cells.  The  cells,  on  the  other  hand,  are  micro- 
scopic elements  shaped  like  a  flask  or  long-necked  squash. 
One  of  the  necks — for  there  may  be  more  than  one — seems 
to  be  prolonged  into  the  fiber,  and  is  called  the  axis-cylia- 
der  process  of  the  cell.  Both  cells  and  nerves  have  nuclei, 
small  dark  points  which  are  surrounded  b}^  protoplasm. 
The  nerves  are  also  cut  up  at  intervals  by  nodes  resem- 
bling the  divisions  in  a  length  of  corn-stalk.  See  Figs.  1 
and  2. 

Some  cells,  however,  are  found  without  such  connections, 
as  far  as  microscopic  analysis  is  able  to  go.  And  in  many 
cases  no  direct  continuity  of  structure  has  been  discovered 
'  Handbook,  vol.  ii.  chap.  i. 

19 


20 


THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 


between  cells  and  fibers  which  are  supposed  to  unite  in  a 
common  function.  In  these  cases  the  fiber  divides  into 
numerous  ramifications,  presenting  the  appearance  of  a  tree 
with  its  top  branches  turned  toward  the  cell.     See  Fig.  4. 


Fig.  1.— From  apiece  >f  spinal  cord.  tI  and5.  gaiiglion-colls  ;  at  Z>,  axis-cylinder; 
j9,  protoplasmic  process  ;  C,  neuroglia-cells.  (After  Raavier,  from  Edinger, 
Am.  Ed.) 

The  cells  are  largely  gathered  in  masses  or  "centers," 
toward  which  fibers  from  different  regions  or  organs  con- 
verge and  apparently  lose  themselves.  What  is  usuall}'^ 
called  the  brain  is  a  series  of  such  centers,  varying  in  size 
and  complexity  from  the  cerebral  cortex  or  rind,  down- 
wai'd  into  the  sinnal  cord.     In  the  centers  the  cells  are 


NERVE  ELEMEXrs. 


21 


separated  by  a  substance  called  neuroglia 
(see  Fig.  1),  wliicli  may  be  simply  a  form 
of  connective  tissue  not  itself  nervous — 
tjie  opinion  of  the  majority  of  neurologists 
— or  a  third  nervous  element  whose  func- 
tion is  bound  up  with  that  of  the  cells — a 
view  supported  by  some  later  research. 

Combination  of  Nerve-el6ments  in  a 
System.  The  elements  spoken  of  some- 
what artificially  as  cells  and  fibers  have  no 
functional  existence  apart  from  each  other 
and  from  the  living  organism  as  a  whole. 
Viewed  as  a  whole,  as  receiving,  register- 
ing, and  reacting  upon  stimuli,  they  con- 
stitute the  nervous  system.  As  a  system, 
the  nervous  apparatus  is  essential  to  the 
life  of  a  higher  organism  and  partakes 
with  it  of  a  great  differentiation  of  parts. 
Wliat  we  call  organs  or  members  of  the 
body  have  a  unity  of  their  own  struc- 
turally; but  their  functional  activity  is 
one  witlr  the  general  life-process  of  the 
whole.  So  the  organs  or  members  of  the 
nervous  system  have  a  corresponding 
structural  differentiation.  Whether  the 
three  general  functions  of  the  system 
spoken  of  above,  receiving,  registering, 
and  reacting  upon  stimuli,  are  in  any 
way  adequate  as  a  functional  conception 
or  not,  they  will  at  any  rate  serve  to  guide 
us  in  describing  the  three  great  parts  or 
divisions  of  the  nerve-apparatus.  We 
will  accordingly  say  a  word  about  these 
three  divisions  in  order. 

The  Receiving  or  Sensor  Appara- 
tus.    By  this  is  meant   that  part  of  the 


Fig.  2.— Nerve  fibers, 
(af  rcr  Schvvalbe).  a. 
Axis  cylinder  ;  $, 
slieathof  Schwann  ; 
n.  nnciens  ;  p,  pran- 
nlar  substance  atthe 
poles  of  thenucleus; 
r,  Ranvicr's  nodes, 
where  the  mednllary 
sheath  is  interrnpt- 
ed  and  the  axis-cyl- 
inder appears. 


22  THE  XEBYOrS  SYSTEM. 

nervous  system  which  is  normally  concerned  with-  stim- 
uli from  without.  We  say  normally  concerned,  since 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  all  nerve-tissue  has  the 
receiving  proj^erty.  But  we  find  a  great  sj'stem  of  fibrous 
pathways  arranged  for  the  evident  purpose  of  propagat- 
ing disturbances  from  the  periphery  of  the  body,  and 
from  various  organs,  to  the  higher  ceuters.  Further,  these 
fibrous  pathways  may  have  special  receiving  organs  ex- 
posed to  the  peculiar  stimulus  which  we  call  psychologi- 
cally the  stimulus  to  a  particular  sensation  ;  such  special 
organs  being  peculiar  to  the  special  senses,  as  the  eye  for 
sight,  ear  for  hearing,  etc.  Accordingly,  the  receiving 
apparatus  includes  two  distinct  elements,  the  senso7'  coiirse 
and  the  end-organ.  The  latter  (say  the  eye)  i-eceives  some 
form  of  excitation  (light),  and  the  former  (optic  nerve) 
propagates  it  to  the  brain. 

The  existence  of  sensor  courses  which  have  no  end- 
organs  is  sufiicient  to  show  that  the  latter  is  not  a  neces- 
sary part  of  the  system,  except  when  the  sj^stem  is  highly 
differentiated.  A  sensor  nerve  may  be  stimulated  mechan- 
ically by  a  blow,  by  a  touch  upon  an  exposed  point,  etc., 
even  in  the  case  of  the  nerves  of  special  sense  ;  they  then 
report  the  sensations  ordinarily  secured  through  their  end- 
organs.^ 

The  nerves  of  special  sense  show  no  structural  peculiari- 
ties except  the  possession  of  the  end-organ.  By  nerves  of 
special  sense  are  meant  those  which  report  sensations  rec- 
ognized and  classed  as  having  distinct  psychological  qual- 
ity. Tliat  is,  we  find  special  end -organs  for  each  of  the 
seven  classes  of  sensations  discussed  below,  the  muscles 
being  considered  end-organs  of  the  muscular  sense. 

Besides  these,  there  is  a  mass  of  nerve-courses  which 
report  less  distinctly  differentiated  and  localized  stimuli, 
the  purest  and  most  general  psychological  condition  that 

*  For  example,  sparks  of  light  which  result  from  a  blow  on  the 
optic  nerve  or  from  mechanical  irritation  of  a  blind  eye. 


THE  SENSOn  APPAnATUS. 


23 


they  induce  being  pleasure  and  pain.  Tliese  are  called 
general  as  o23posed  to  the  special  courses,  and  constitute 
the  physiological  basis  of  the  general  sensihility. 

As  to  distribution,  the  sensor  apparatus  is  coincident 
in  extent  with  the  body  itself.     The  orgaws  of  general  sen- 


FiG.  3.— The  spinal  cord  and  nerve-roote.  A,  a  small  portion  of  the  cord  seen  from 
the  ventral  side  ;  B,  the  same  seen  laterally;  C,  a  cross-section  of  the  cord;  D, 
the  two  roots  of  a  spinal  nerve;  l,anterior(ventral)  fissure:  2,  posterior  (dorsal) 
fissure;  3,  surface  groove  along  the  line  of  attachment  of  the  anterior  nerve- 
roots:  4,  line  of  origin  of  the  posterior  roots;  5,  anterior  root  filament  of  a 
spinal  nerve  ;  6,  posterior  root  filament;  6',  ganglion  of  the  posterior  root;  7.  7, 
the  first  two  divisions  of  the  nerve-trunk  after  its  formation  by  the  union  of  the 
two  roots. 

sibilitj''  are  distributed  throughout  in  the  form  of  very  fine 
fibrils ;  these  fibrils  being  gathered  into  l)undles  and  these 
again  into  larger  bundles  or  nerves  as  they  approach  the 
central  course,  the  spinal  cord.  AYith  these  are  the  nerves 
of  touch  and  muscular  movement,  also  of  general  distribu- 
tion, the  whole  being  consolidated  into  two  columns  which 
form  part  of  the  white  matter  of  the  spinal  cord.  The  pos- 
terior or  dorsal  portion  of  the  cord  (the  portion  farther 
hack — ?(/>   in   animals)   is  called   the  sensor  portion   (pos- 


24  THE  XEnrors  SYSTEM. 

tero- median  columns).  After  gathering  up  tlie  representa- 
tive fibers  from  all  the  successive  nerves  of  sense  wliicli  run 
into  the  spinal  cord,  these  tracts  terminate  in  the  upper 
enlargement  of  the  cord  (medulla);  but  further  pathways 
lead  up  to  the  highest  center,  the  cortex  of  the  brain — and 
this  is  the  essential  point.  For  the  location  of  these  tracts 
in  the  cord,  see  Fig.  3. 

Another  tract  (the  cerebellar)  is  also  supposed  to  carry 
incoming  impulses  upward  ;  it  arises  from  cells  distributed 
along  the  cord  and  passes  continuously  to  the  cerebellum 
(little  brain).  As  the  cerebellum  is  also  in  direct  connection 
with  the  hemispheres,  another  upward  path  is  thus  estab- 
lished. Foster  further  suj^poses  that  incoming  impulses 
may  travel  by  the  gray  matter  of  the  cord  (see  below),  or 
by  portions  of  the  gray  matter  with  the  longitudinal  fibers 
which  connect  different  segments  of  the  cord  together.^ 

Upon  the  endings  of  the  sensor  courses  recent  research 
has  thrown  some  light.  Peripherally,  the  sensor  fibers 
end  in  the  tree-like  ramifications  spoken  of  above.  Going 
inward,  such  a  fiber  reaches  first  a  cell  in  the  spinal  gan- 
glion, then  penetrates  the  posterior  horn  of  the  cord,  and 
terminates  in  the  gray  matter  of  the  cord  in  the  "  tree 
structure  "  again.  Here  its  influence  seems  to  be  trans- 
mitted to  a  sensory  cell  from  which  a  fiber  proceeds  up  the 
posterior  column  to  the  cerebral  cortex  as  described,  end- 
ing as  before  in  the  "  tree  structure."     See  Fig.  4. 

The  arrangemetit  of  the  apparatus  of  the  special  senses 
is  more  special,  indicating  to  a  degree  the  order  of  devel- 
opment of  their  several  functions.  The  muscular  sense 
extends  to  all  the  muscles  ;  touch  and  temperature  to  the 
peripher}^,  the   end-organs   residing   largely  in  the   skin."^ 

^  Text-hook  of  Physiology ,  ^i\i  ed.,  pt.  lii.  p.  1104.  Cf.  his  whole 
discussion,  ibid.  §  9. 

'■^  And  in  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  mouth  and  pharynx,  which 
constitutes  with  the  skin  the  derivatives  of  the  epiblastic  layer  of  the 
embryo. 


THE  MOTOn  APPARATCS.  25 

Tbe  other  special  senses,  siglit,  lieariiig,  taste,  and  smell, 
have  each  a  particular  locality;  but  they  are  grouped 
together,  and  their  nerves,  by  reason  of  their  special  and 
closer  connection  with  the  central  ;iervous  masses  in  the 
skull,  are  called  cranial  nerves. 

The  Reacting  or  Motor  Apparatus      The  analogy  be- 
tween tlie  receiving  and  the  reacting  apparatus  is  so  close 


Fig.  4.— Transverse  section  of  spinal  cord,  showing  anterior  (17)  and  posterior 
horn«,  sense  organ  (skin,  2),  muscle  (23),  brain  cortex  (12),  and  spinal  ganglion, 
(3).  Sensory  path— 2.  5,  3,  4.6,  7,  8,  9,  9i,  10,  11,  12,  13,  14.  Volnntary  motor 
path— 15,  16.  17,  18,  19,  20,  21,  22,  23.  Reflex  path  -2,  5,  M,  4,  6,  7,  8,  9,  20,  21,  22. 
23.    Note  the  "  tree-structure  "  nerve  endings.    (After  Waldeyer.) 

tliat  they  may  be  taken  up  together  ;  more  especially  as 
the  purest  type  of  reaction,  as  will  appear  below,  assumes 
that  there  is  no  break  of  continuity  between  them.  The 
nature  of  the  reaction  itself  is  a  point  of  function  and  is 
reserved  ;  the  apparatus  is  what  asks  attention  now. 

In  the  reaction  we  find   another  system  of  nerves,  the 
motor   courses^   quite    indistinguishable    from    the    sensor 


26  THE  KEnVOUS  SYSTEM. 

courses,  except  in  their  localities  and  their  endings.  They 
are  also  alike  among  themselves  as  regards  their  end-organ, 
the  muscles.^  They  issue  directly  from  the  bodj^  of  the 
muscles  and  converge  to  the  spinal  cord,  of  which  they 
constitute  roughly  the  anterior  (front)  or  ventral  portion 
— the  so-called  pyramidal  tracts.  The  essential  facts, 
again,  are  the  continuity  of  structure  throughout  and  the 
universal  distribution  of  the  motor  courses  to  the  muscular 
tissue.  The  distribution,  however,  does  not  secure  equall}^ 
ready  reaction  of  all  the  muscles  ;  indeed,  some  of  the 
muscles  are  either  entirely  outside  the  range  of  voluntary 
control,  or  are  brought  within  only  by  much  exertion. 

As  to  their  endings  the  motor  courses  exhibit  more  sim- 
plicity. They  arise  directly  from  cells  in  the  cortex,  and 
have  their  first  ending  in  the  *'  tree-structure  "  in  the  ante- 
rior horns  of  the  spinal  gray  matter.  There  the  *'  influence  " 
is  taken  up  by  the  spinal  motor  cell,  and  from  it  is  trans- 
mitted direct  to  the  muscle  by  means  of  a  nerve  with  the 
"tree-structure"  ending.     See  Fig.  4. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  spinal  cord  there  is  an  enlarge- 
ment, the  medulla  oblongata^  in  which  occurs  a  rearrange- 
ment of  all  the  courses  and  their  distribution  to  the  various 
masses  of  the  brain.  Above  the  medulla  again  we  find 
other  white  fibrous  bodies — which  need  not  be  enumerated — 
serving  two  evident  purposes  ;  ^.  e.^  they  gather  together 
fibers  which  minister  to  the  same  function,  and  distribute 
these  fibers  to  the  cellular  bodies  at  which  such  functions 
have  their  brain-seat.  In  these  higher  white  masses,  motor 
and  sensor  courses  are  inextricably  interwoven  ;  and  in 
only  a  few  cases  has  research  succeeded  in  establishing 
pathwa3^s  up  or  down.  Without  giving  details,  we  may 
say  that  the  following  points  are  quite  definite  : 

1.  Sensor  tracts  pass  from  all  parts  of  the  periphery  of 
the  body  up  through  the  dorsal  column  of  the  spinal  cord, 

'  The  secretive  and  vaso-motor  connections  are,  for  our  present 
purpose,  neglected. 


SEXSOR  AXT)  MOTOJl   TRACTS.  27 

cross  (decussate)  in  part  in  the  medulla,  and  reach  the  sur- 
face of  the  opposite  hemisphere  of  the  brain  (largely  the 
rear  and  nether  portion). 

2.  Motor  tracts  pass  from  all  parts  of  the  periphery  up 
through  the  ventral  column  of  the  spinal  cord,  cross  in  part 


Fig.  5.— Scheme  of  pyracnidal  tracts,  p^,])"^,])^.  Periphery  of  body;  n\n^,v^, 
spinal  nuclei  of  oriijin  ;  Pi/S,  lateral  pyramidal  tract;  Pt/V.  anterior  pyrauiuhil 
tract ;  ca,  anterior  commissure  of  spinal  cord  ;  DP,  decussation  of  pyramids  ; 
F;/.  pyramids;  Pp,  pes  pedunculi  cerebri ;  Ci,  internal  capsule  ;  Po,  pons  :  7ifw, 
nuclei  pontis  ;  cb,  cerebellum;  />•»,  periphery  supplied  by  cranial  nerves;  n*, 
nucleus  of  origin  of  a  cranial  nerve  ;  C  to  6'^,  cortex  cerebri.    (Obersleiner.) 


in  the  medulla,  and  reach  the  opposite  hemisphere  in  the 
motor  zone  (area  on  both  sides  the  fissure* of  Rolando, 
including  the  paracentral  lobule  *).  Tliese  courses  are 
called   the  pyramidal  tracts,  from  the   pyramid  form  in 

*  See  below,  §  4,  I,  and  Frontispiece. 


28 


Tiihj  xERVovs  srsTEyf. 


wliicli  they  are  buuclied  on  the  ventral  side  of  the  medulla. 
See  Figs.  5  and  6. 

3.  Association  tracts  develop,  in  the  course  of  the  life  of 
the  individual,  to  connect  all  parts  of  the  cortex  of  the 


Cortex  of  the  brain 


Fig.  C— Diagram  of  innervation  of  a  muscle.    (After  Edinger,  Am.  EdO 


brain  with  one  another.  They  are  almost,  if  not  quite, 
absent  at  birth.  In  the  words  of  Edinger  :  "They  extend 
everyvvdiere  from  convolution  to  convolution,  connecting 
parts  which  lie  near  eacli  other  as  well  as  those  which  are 
w  idely  separated.  They  are  developed  when  two  different 
regions  of  tlie  cortex  are  associated  in  a  common  action."  * 
See  Fig.  7. 

'  Stntctvre  of  the  Central  Nervous  System,  p.  69. 


ASSOCIATION  r It  ACTS. 


29 


Under  the  same  head  may  be  included  also  the  fibers 
which   connect    the    two    hemispheres   with   each   other, 


Fig. 


-Diagrammatic  representation  of  a  part  of  the  association  fibers  of  one 
hemisphere.    (After  Edinger,  Am.  Ed.^ 


making  of  them  a  single  organ  in  relation  to  the  lower 
parts  of  the  system.  Such  connections  are  found  in  two 
great  bundles  called  the  corpus  callosum,  which  is  the  floor 


Fig.  8,— Frontal  section  of  tlie  course  of  the  corpus  callosum  and  the  anterior 
commissure,    (After  Edinger,  Am.  Ed.) 


30  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

of  the  great  longitudinal  fissure  which  separates  the  hemi- 
spheres from  above;  and  in  the  anterior  commissure  below. 
Both  are  shown  in  the  accompanying  figure  (8). 

The  Registering  Apparatus.  Under  this  term  we  in- 
clude the  more  or  less  complex  chain  of  cellular  elements 
which  constitutes/ the  center  receiving  and  reacting.  The 
word  registering  emphasizes  again  the  integration  or 
development  side  of  the  nerve-process.  In  its  most  gen- 
eral or  schematic  outline,  the  system  is  made  up  of  two 
similar  nerve-courses  brought  into  organic  connection  at 
their  upper  end  by  this  cellular  series.     It  may  be  repre- 

M_ 

\ 


s 

Fig.  9. 

sented  to  the  eye  in  the  following  simple  way  :  M  being 
the  motor  course,  S  the  sensor  course,  and  C  the  central 
elements:  the  whole  constitutes  the  elementary  weryows  arc 
(Fig.  9). 

Our  knowledge  of  the  central  elements  is  exceedingly 
vague,  both  as  regards  structure  and  function.  As  to 
structure,  the  most  exact  thing  that  we  can  say  is  that 
the  center  is  cellular  and  probably  in  all  cases  complex. 
Its  complexity  is  indeed  so  striking  and  elaborate  that  it  is 
this  feature  that  tends  to  obscure  all  others  and  render  re- 
search fruitless.  A  general  distinction  is  made  by  physi- 
ologists between  the  simple  arc  and  the  complex  mass  of 
many  arcs  with  their  accompanying  highly  integrated 
center  ;  but  the  simple  arc  is  a  pure  abstraction.  Indeed  its 
very  conception  is  dependent  upon  the  results  of  an  analysis 
of  the  centers  which  has  never  been  made.  In  reality  it  is 
probable  that  the  simplest  nerve-reaction  of  which  we  have 
any  knowledge  involves  a  cellular  mass  and  a  nunaber  of 


ITS  STRUCTURE. 


31 


I 


alternative  motor  and  sensor  tracts.  Such  a  relatively 
simple  system  is  found  in  the  ascidians,  which  have  only  a 
single  ganglion  with  sensor  and  motor  filaments.  See 
Fig.  10. 

In  distribution,  the  central  masses  again  illustrate  the 
hierarchical  arrangement  due  to  development.  The  sim- 
plest of  such  arcs  are  at  the  points  of  union  of  nerve- 
courses,  points  where  the  motor  and  the 
sensor  find  an  interchange  of  energies, 
or  a  distribution  so  uninvolved  as  to 
follow  from  the  nature  of  the  nervous 
integration  it  represents,  without  appeal 
to  a  higher  and  more  complex  center. 
Such  comparatively  simple  points  are 
called  ganglia.  For  example,  the 
nerves  which  enter  the  spinal  cord  on 
eitlier  side  at  intervals  throughout  its 
wdiole  extent  divide  a  short  distance 
from  the  cord,  and  send  branches 
called  motor  and  sensory  roots,  respec- 
tively, into  the  cord.  Just  above  the 
point  of  division,  on  the  sensory  root, 
we  find  a  sicelling  or  lump,  a  ganglion. 
thought,  represents  a  junction,  to  use  a  railroad  figure,  for 
the  transfer  of  passengers  and  the  interchange  of  tele- 
graphic messages.^     See  Fig.  3  above. 

The  spinal  cord  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  segments,  to- 
gether forming  a  column  in  the  center  of  which  is  a  con- 
tinuous mass  of  gray  (cellular)  matter.  This  gray  column 
gives  off  the  spinal  nerves  from  its  two  posterior  and  two 
anterior  horns  (see  Fig.  3) ;  the  nerves  thus  given  off,  right 
aud  left  at  the  same  level,  meet  just  below  tlie  enlargement 
or  ganglion  outside  the  cord.  Above  the  spinal  cord  the 
gray  matter  is   enormously  increased,  as  w-e  should  expect 

1  On  the  fuuctions  of  the  ganglia  ami  centers  generally,  see  below, 
p.  3a  f. 


Fig.  10.— Nervous  eys- 
tem  of  an  Aecidian 
(Carpenter),  a,  the 
mouth  ;  b,  the  vent ; 
c,  the  ganglion ;  d, 
muscular  sac. 


The  ganglion,  it  is 


32  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

from  the  increase  in  the  fibrous  pathways  ah-eady  de- 
scribed. Thus  a  number  of  bodies  are  formed  in  three  con- 
nected systems  :^  first,  the  most  central  gray  matter,  serv- 
ing to  connect  the  spinal  column  with  the  higlier  centers, 
and  giving  the  cells  from  which  arise  the  cranial  nerves  ; 
second,  the  tegmental  system,  including  all  tlie  masses 
which  lie  in  the  interior  of  tlie  brain  (the  most  important 
being  the  striate  bodies  and  the  optic  thalan%i)\  and  third, 
the  surface  masses,  the  cerebrum,  which  has  its  gray  mat- 
ter arranged  in  layers,  giving  the  cortex  or  rind,  and  the 
cerebellum  ox  little  brain,  a  similar  mass  behind  and  beneath 
the  cerebrum  with  a  similar  cortex  of  its  own.  For  present 
purposes  the  essential  points  again  to  be  noted  in  this 
connection  are,  first,  what  we  have  called  the  hierarchical 
cliaracter  of  the  series,  tlie  unbroken  advance  in  structural 
complexity  ;  and  second,  the  continuity  of  connection  and 
influence  through  it  all. 

§  2.  Flnctions  op  the  Nervous  System. 

Fundamental  Properties  of  Nervous  Tissue.  Experi- 
mental research  upon  living  nerve-tissue  has  issued  in  a 
conception  of  protoplasm  which  includes  two  functional 
elements.  At  the  first  glance,  nerve  substance  exhibits 
the  property  called  in  general  scientific  nomenclature 
irritability.  This  property  is  by  no  means  confined  to 
developed  nerve-elements  ;  it  is  exhibited  by  all  living 
animal  tissue,  by  forms  of  organism  in  which  a  nervous 
system  is  entirel}''  wanting.  In  some  forms  of  vegetable 
life,  as  the  sensitive  plant,  the  same  property  is  presented. 
In  the  case  of  nervous  irritability,  however,  whenever  the 
substance  assumes  the  complexity  of  a  system,  we  are  led 
to  view  it  under  two  distinct  functional  rubrics.  Recalling 
a  former  division,  we  find  the  receiving  and  the  reacting 

^  Following  Foster,  Text-hook  of  Physiology,  pt,  ill.  pp.  977-998. 
For  details  and  diagrams  see  any  of  the  Physiologies  ;  Ladd's  small 
Outlines  of  Physiological  Psychology  is  convenieut  for  reference. 


ITS  FUNCTIONS.  33 

apparatus  to  be  appropriate  to  the  same  function,  that  of 
propagation,  transmission,  or  conduction  ;  and  the  central 
arc,  the  registering  apparatus,  suggests  a  function  of  inte- 
gration. Assuming  the  results  of  later  exposition,  these 
two  functions  may  be  called,  respectively,  Neurility  and 
Sentience. 

Let  us  consider,  for  example,  the  central  arc  A,  of  Fig.  9, 
above,  to  be  the  center  or  nucleus  of  a  protoplasmic  mass, 
and  the  two  lines  M  and  S  to  be  two  radii  from  the  center 
to  the  outer  surface.  If,  then,  the  mass  be  stimulated  at 
the  outer  end  of  S,  and  this  be  followed  by  the  withdrawal 
of  the  point  stimulated,  we  have  a  phenomenon  of  irrita- 
bilit^^  But  we  may  suppose  S  to  be  a  line  of  conduction 
of  the  excitation  to  A,  and  M  the  line  of  reverse  conduction 
or  reaction  which  results  in  the  contraction  ;  both  of  these 
fall  under  the  conception  of  Neurility.  The  process  by 
which  they  are  held  together  at  the  exchange-bureau 
A,  so  to  speak,  is  Sentience.  This  rough  conception  may 
be  made  more  distinct  as  the  two  processes  are  taken  up 
singly. 

1.  Neurility.  Under  the  head  of  neurility  we  are  intro- 
duced to  a  class  of  phenomena  which  have  striking  analo- 
gies in  physical  science.  The  conception  or  phenomenon 
of  conduction  is  familiar  in  what  we  know  of  light,  sound, 
and  heat  propagation  ;  but  the  special  analogy  which  at 
once  suggests  itself  is  electric  conduction  along  a  metallic 
wire.  Setting  aside  as  a  matter  of  speculation  the  hy- 
pothesis that  neural  force  is  identical  with  electricity, 
we  may  still  find  in  the  analogy  much  help  to  a  clear  con- 
ception of  nervous  conduction. 

Indeed  the  theory  of  nervous  action  most  current  among 
authorities — as  w^ell  as  in  the  popular  mind — finds  its 
general  exposition  in  terms  of  the  analogy  with  electric 
action.  On  this  theory,  the  nerve-courses  are  simply  and 
only  conductive  tracts,  as  the  electric  wire  in  a  telegraph 
system  ;  the  centers,  on  the  contrary,  are  the  generators  of 


34  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

"nervous  force."  At  the  center  we  have,  therefore,  a 
storage-battery  from  whicli  force  is  drawn  off  along'^the 
motor  courses  upon  the  occasion  of  the  arrival  of  a  stimulus 
from  the  sensor  course.  The  centers,  on  this  theory,  are 
the  essential  nervous  agents,  or  producers,  and  the  courses 
are  brought  into  operation  onl}^  as  they  are  charged  from 
the  central  battery  or  pile.  Neurility,  therefore,  is  simply 
the  molecular  state  which  constitutes  a  course  a  good 
nervous  conductor. 

This  theory  is  objected  to  both  on  theoretical  grounds 
and  from  experiment.  It  makes  the  distinction  between 
courses  and  centers  too  absolute  and  mechanical.  Accord- 
ing to  it,  any  distinct  djmamic  property  is  taken  from  the 
nerve-tracts  ;  while  experiments  show  that  the  elementary 
portions  of  both  sensor  and  motor  nerves  have  a  life  and 
function  of  their  own.  The  eye  when  removed  from  its 
socket,  thus  losing  all  connection  with  a  center  or  ganglion, 
still  shows  sensitiveness  to  light,  and  has  a  motor  reaction 
in  the  contraction  or  expansion  of  the  iris.  Pfliiger  main- 
tains that  there  is  an  increase  in  intensity  in  the  nervous  dis- 
turbance as  it  traverses  the  motor  nerve,  and  Richet  thinks 
a  similar  increase  in  the  sensor  nerves  probable.  The  ordi- 
nary phenomenon  called  knee-jerk  is  thought  by  some  to 
take  place  without  appeal  to  a  nervous  center. 

Accordingly,  another  theory  is  advanced  which  seems 
more  philosophical  to  the  present  writer,  so  far  as  he  ven- 
tures to  have  an  opinion  on  a  matter  so  purely  physiological. 
This  second  conception  of  the  nervous  system  makes  it  a 
living  organism  instinct  with  nervous  force  or  neural  prop- 
erties throughout.  This  system  is  in  a  state  of  unstable 
equilibrium  and  constant  change,  due  to  stimuli  through 
sense-organs  and  to  spontaneous  central  discharge.  Dis- 
turbances tend  to  equalize  themselves  everywhere  in  the 
system  by  a  species  of  centrifugal  and  centripetal  tension, 
which,  through  its  greater  or  less  effectiveness  in  this  direc- 
tion or  that,  upon  this  course  or  that,  results  in  conduction 


-         SENTIENCE.  35 

or  iieurility.  Differentiation,  tlierefore,  in  tlie  system,  is 
primarily  structural  differentiation,  due  to  tlie  adaptation 
of  the  life-process  to  changing  conditions  in  the  environ- 
ment. 

The  "  dynamic"  conception,  as  the  latter  may  be  called, 
is  supported  by  a  class  of  facts  which  show  a  ready  and 
facile  influence  throughout  the  system,  difficult  to  account 
for  if  the  parts  between  whicii  the  transfer  occurs  are 
functionally  distinct  ;  such  general  transfer  affords  the  so- 
called  law  of  diffusion.  For  example,  a  simple  sensory 
stimulus  may,  Avhen  intense,  or  when  the  system  is  excited 
from  disease,  lead  to  general  irritation  and  diffusive  dis- 
charge. On  the  other  hand,  a  reflex  having  its  center  in  a 
particular  spinal  ganglion  may  be  partially  stopped  by  a 
sensory  excitation  from  another  part  of  the  body.  Cases 
of  association  between  sounds  and  colors,^  and  phenomena 
of  contrast*  generally,  show  sucli  dynamic  connections  be- 
tween disparate  sense-regions.  Urban tschitsch  found  that 
the  perception  of  color  was  im[)roved  when  a  tuning-fork 
was  made  to  vibrate  near  tlie  ear. 

However  it  may  be  explained,  nervous  conduction  is  of 
fundamental  importance  for  the  theory  of  sensibility.  And 
for  practical  purposes  the  wave  or  current  theory  serves, 
as  in  electricity,  all  ordinary  requirements.  The  nervous 
wave,  therefore,  is  called  centripetal  or  afferent  when  mov- 
ing toward  the  center,  and  centrifugal  or  efferent  when 
moving  toward  the  periphery.  The  rate  of  transmission 
differs  somewhat  in  the  two  directions,  being  about  120 
feet  per  second  for  sensor  and  110  feet  for  motor  impulses. 
Transmission  through  the  spinal  cord  takes  place  consider- 
ably more  slowly. 

2.  Sentience.  From  the  interpretation  of  results,  and 
from  ph}''siological  analogies,  some  general  statements  may 
be  made  concerning  the  processes  at  the  centers,  and  these 
general  statements  are  valuable  for  psycholog}^  ;  but  they 

^  See  below.  '  Below,  chap.  viii.  i^  o, 


36  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

do  not  pretend  to  throw  any  light  upon  the  genesis  or 
nature  of  nervous  force. 

a.  Integration.  Of  these  general  statements,  the  first 
concerns  what  has  already  been  called  the  integrating 
function  of  nerve  centers.  By  this  is  meant  the  building 
up  of  a  center  to  greater  complexity  of  structure  through 
new  stimulations.  It  takes  place  by  reason  of  the  ex- 
treme plasticity  of  the  nervous  elements  in  taking  on  ar- 
rangements suited  to  more  habitual  and,  at  the  same  time, 
more  complex  reactions.  The  center  becomes  the  theater 
of  multiple  and  conflicting  stimulations  ;  its  reaction  is  the 
outcome  of  a  warfare  of  interests,  and  the  pathway  of  dis- 
charge is  a  line  of  conduction  most  favorable  to  future  sim- 
ilar outbursts.  A  center  gains  by  such  complex  activities 
in  two  ways  :  first,  its  habitual  reactions  become  a  rock- 
bed  or  layer  of  elements,  so  to  speak,  of  fixed  function  is- 
suing in  established  paths  of  least  resistance  ;  and  second, 
the  center  grows,  gaining  new  and  more  mobile  elements, 
and  responding  by  more  complex  and  difficult  move- 
ments. For  example,  the  center  for  the  movements  of  the 
hands  is  educated,  from  the  early  painful  lessons  of  the 
baby's  finger  movements  to  the  delicate  and  rapid  touch  of 
the  skillful  musician.  Not  only  has  the  center  become 
fixed  and  automatic  for  movements  at  first  painfully  learned, 
but  it  lias  become  educated  by  learning,  so  that  it  acquires 
new  combinations  more  easily.  This  twofold  growth 
becomes  the  basis  of  the  division  of  the  sentient  apparatus 
into  centers  and  ganglia.  The  "  rock-bed  "  elements,  so- 
called,  fall  into  fixed  ganglionic  connections,  and  the  new 
and  free  cells  take  up  the  higher  function,  only  in  their 
turn  to  become  "  fixed  "  by  habit  and  to  give  place  to  yat 
other  and  more  complex  combinations.  This  integrating 
process  is  what  gives  the  hierarchical  order  to  the  system, 
and  throws  its  law  of  development  into  fine  relief.  In- 
tegration, therefore,  represents  a  structural  change  in  the 
direction  both  of  simplicity  and  of  complexity  :   of  siui- 


SENTIENCE.  37 

plicity,  because  it  gives  ease  and  rapidity  to  habitual 
movements  ;  of  complexity,  because  it  brings  into  play 
new  elements  which  must  be  assimilated  to  the  unity  of 
the  center. 

h.  Retention.  The  conception  of  integration  necessarily 
includes  that  of  the  permanence  of  the  modification  on 
Avhich  it  depends.  If  reactions  are  integrated  in  such  a 
way  as  to  secure  the  upbuilding  of  the  sjstem  and  its  more 
perfect  adaptation,  then  we  must  suppose  that  each  reaction 
works  a  minute  structural  change  in  the  organism.  So 
much  is  included  in  the  conception  of  integration.  And 
from  the  ph^^siological  side  tiiis  would  seem  to  be  suffi- 
cient. Retention,  as  a  physiological  principle,  may,  there- 
fore, be  called  growth  in  functional  complexity  ;  while  the 
term  integration  refers  rather  to  growth  in  structural 
complexity. 

Accordingly,  the  conception  of  nervous  retention  runs 
somewhat  like  this  :  Nervous  retention  is  a  state  of  dynamic 
tension  or  tendency  due  to  former  nervous  discharges  in  the 
same  direction  ;  the  two  essential  points,  again,  being  the 
dynamic  or  tension  aspect  of  nerve-action  in  general,  and 
the  particularization  of  this  tension  along  a  given  path 
determined  by  previous  like  discharges. 

c.  Selection.  A  third  fact  of  sentience  may  be  called 
selection.  It  denotes  the  undoubted  property  of  the  living 
nervous  system  of  reacting  within  limits  of  greater  or  less 
adaptation.  It  shows  p?*6/t?re/iC6  for  certain  stimuli  above 
others,  if  the  word  preference  can  be  shorn  of  all  its  refer- 
ence to  conscious  choice.  A  system  will  react  on  a  stim- 
ulus at  one  time  which  it  will  refuse  under  other  circum- 
stances ;  or  it  will  distinguish  between  stimuli  exacth' 
alike,  as  far  as  human  sensibility  for  differences  can  deter- 
mine. The  brainless  carp  will  distinguisli  food  with  some 
degree  of  precision,  and  experiments  by  Pfluger  and  Goltz 
on  brainless  frogs  show  that  they  adapt  their  muscular 
reactions  to  varied  positions  of  the  limbs  which  could  not 


S8  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

have  been  experienced  before  in  tlie  life  of  the  creatures. 
Schrader  has  also  reported  many  similar  cases  of  apparent 
preference  and  choice  in  brainless  pigeons. 

Such  instances  seem  to  show  a  selective  function  in  nerve- 
reactions  of  the  purest  type,  i.  e.,  those  simply  ganglionic, 
Avhere  the  effects  of  consciousness  are  either  quite  wanting 
or  reduced  to  a  minimum  in  intensit}^  The  explanation  is 
perhaps  to  be  found  in  the  peculiar  delicacy  of  the  receiv- 
ing apparatus.  To  say  that  a  brainless  animal  selects  when 
we  are  unable  to  point  out  differences,  is  only  to  say  that 
more  debased  currency  will  pass  for  gold  with  us  than  with 
it.  Instead  of  selecting  between  two  stimuli,  therefore,  it 
has  had  only  one,  and  has  responded  to  it  ;  the  other  being 
mistakenly  considered  by  us  as  fitted  to  excite  it.  Does 
the  nervous  S3^stem  select  from  a  multitude  of  similar 
touches  ?  The  magnet  selects  from  a  multitude  of  similar 
filings  ;  and  the  explanation  seems  to  be  the  same.  Neither 
the  touches  nor  the  filings  are  similar,  after  all. 

Another  explanation  of  selection  must  be  mentioned, 
however,  both  because  it  is  held  and  because  it  affords  a 
philosophical  and  quite  plausible  hypothesis  ;  it  is  possible 
that  our  subsequent  discussions  will  bring  us  into  accord 
with  it.  It  holds  that  sentience  involves  eonsciousness, 
that  nervous  action  is  always  conscious  (not  self-conscious) 
action,  and  that  a  fundamental  mark  of  consciousness  is 
preferential  selection  or  choice.  On  this  theory,  therefore, 
all  such  cases  are  instances  of  real  selection,  due  to  the 
presence  of  consciousness.  The  explanation  given  to  nerv- 
ous selection  has  psj^chological  significance,  since,  accord- 
ing as  it  is  explained,  it  may  or  may  not  give  us  data  for 
our  theory  of  voluntary  choice. 

Law  of  Nervous  Dynamogenesis.  Sentience,  in  view 
of  what  has  been  said,  is  a  general  word  for  the  rise  and 
distribution  of  nervous  force.  The  receiving  and  reacting 
functions  are  both  essential,  the  one  necessarily  giving  rise 
to  the  other  ;  there  is  no  incoming  nervous  process,  there- 


A  UTOMA  TIC  RE  A  CTIOK.  3  9 

fore,  that  does  not  tend  to  liberate  energy  on  the  outgoing 
courses.  Eoery  stimulus  has  a  ilynaniogenic  or  motor 
force — may  accordingly  pass  as  a  statement  of  the  law  in 
its  individual  bearing,  the  only  bearing  which  is  available 
as  having  a  psychological  analogy. 

§  3.  Kinds  of  Nervous  Reaction. 

The  twofold  growth  of  the  nervous  system  spoken  of 
under  integration  gives  us  data  for  a  distinction  among 
different  reactions.  Integration  involves,  on  one  side,  a 
downward  or  "ganglionic"  growth,  represented  in  func- 
tion by  the  more  unconscious  and  unintended  reactions  of 
the  muscular  system  ;  aiid,  on  the  other  side,  an  upward 
or  "  central  "  growth,  represented  by  the  more  difficult 
muscular  performances,  in  which  attention  and  effort  are 
called  out.  These  two  laws  of  growth  act  together,  and  in 
the  result,  in  our  motor  experience,  we  find  every  degree 
of  nervous  facility  or  the  contrary.  Three  stages  of  such 
growth,  from  down  up,  so  to  speak,  are  usually  distinguished. 

1.  Automatic  Heaction.— By  the  automatic  in  nerve- 
function  is  meant  tlieself  acting,  i.  «.,  those  reactions  which 
find  their  stimulus  in  the  living  conditions  of  the  physical 
organism  itself.  Certain  organic  processes  are  neces- 
sary^ to  the  life  of  the  individual  and  the  race — circula- 
tion, respiration,  digestion,  etc.  The  dependence  of 
these  essential  functions  upon  external  stimuli  of  time  and 
place  would  give  an  accidental  and  varied  character  to 
these  reactions  which  would  subserve  death  rather  than 
life.  Accordingly^  the  automatic  centers  represent  the 
most  consolidated  and  fixed  portions  of  the  nervous  system, 
at  the  same  time  they  are  complex  and  elaborate.  These 
functions  may  or  may  not  be  conscious,  their  most  health- 
ful activitv  beinof  sfenerallv  most  free  from  conscious  over- 
sight.  AVith  very  rare  exceptions,  also,  they  cannot  be 
modified  by  the  will  or  brought  under  voluntaiy  control. 


40  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

2.  Keflex  Reactions.  A  iiervous  circuit  is  reflex  wlien 
its  motor  reaction  upon  a  particular  kind  of  stimulus  is 
single,  definite,  constant,  and  does  not  involve  volition  in 
its  execution.  In  more  general  terms,  a  reaction  is  reflex 
wlienever  we  are  certain  beforehand  that  it  will  take  the 
form  of  a  particular  well-defined  muscular  movement,  and 
will  do  its  work  without  any  interference  or  mandate  from 
ourselves.  We  are  disposed  to  stand  apart  and  attribute 
the  reaction  to  the  organism  or  to  the  external  stimulus. 
For  example,  if  a  ball  suddenly  approach  my  ej^e,  incloses, 
or  if  it  strike  sharply  upon  my  knee,  my  foot  flies  up  ;  we 
do  not  say  I  close  my  eye  or  raise  my  foot.  Or  we  go 
further  out  still  and  say  the  man  who  threw  the  ball  made 
my  eye  close  or  my  foot  fly  up — so  thoroughh^  do  we  dis- 
tinguish this  class  of  reactions  in  consciousness  from  those 
which  we  attribute  to  our  own  agency. 

In  its  physiological  character,  this  kind  of  reaction 
represents  a  less  organized  and  consolidated  system  of 
elements  than  the  automatic.  A  reflex  reaction  is  gener- 
ally conscious  in  its  operation,  and  always  so  in  its  com- 
pleted results.  Its  center,  also,  is  not  cut  off  functionally 
from  the  higher  centers  of  the  brain,  which  exercise  a  con- 
trolling influence.  Yet  we  know  that  this  connection  is 
not  an  essential  one  to  the  reaction  itself,  since  after  the 
removal  of  the  cerebrum  and  with  it  all  active  conscious- 
ness (certainly  ;  perhaps  all  consciousness),  the  reaction 
still  takes  place.  Each  of  the  segments  of  the  spinal  cord 
has  its  own  reactions  apart  from  its  brain-connection. 
Indeed,  reflex  reactions  are  most  perfect  and  pure  when 
consciousness  in  the  form  of  attention  is  not  directed  to 
the  movements.  These  facts  tend  to  throw  reflexes 
rather  on  the  side  of  the  "  downward  "  growth  spoken  of, 
and  assimilate  them  to  automatic  reactions.  The  phe- 
nomena presented  by  the  reactions  of  a  brainless  frog 
illustrate  pure  reflexes  very  clearly. 

The  downward  growth  appears  from  the  fact  that  many 


REFLEX  RE  AC  ri  OK.  41 

of  our  reflexes  are  acquired  from  habit  and  repetition. 
Motor  processes  at  first  difficult  and  simple  are  welded  to- 
getlier  in  complex  masses,  and  the  whole  becomes  spon- 
taneous and  reflex.  The  case  is  cited  of  a  musician  who 
was  seized  witli  an  epileptic  attack  in  the  midst  of  an 
orchestral  performance,  and  continued  to  play  the  measure 
quite  correctly  wdiile  in  a  state  of  apparently  complete  un- 
consciousness. This  is  only  an  exaggerated  case  of  our 
common  experience  in  walking,  writing,  etc.  Just  as  a 
number  of  single  experiences  of  movement  become  merged 
in  a  single  idea  of  the  whole,  and  the  impulse  to  begin  the 
combination  is  sufficient  to  secure  the  performance  of  all 
the  details,  so  single  nervous  reactions  become  integrated 
in  a  compound  reflex. 

This  consideration  leads  to  a  further  distinction  between 
more  or  less  organized  reflexes  ;  namely,  between  what  are 
called  secondary-automatic  reactions  and  reflexes  proper. 
In  the  case  of  our  movements  in  walking,  for  example,  the 
successive  reactions  are  not  sufficiently  organized  to  belong 
properly  to  a  single  stimulus — sa}^  the  original  idea  of  our 
destination,  or  the  sensation  of  our  first  footfall  upon  the 
pavement  ;  but  the  steps  in  succession  are  probably  ex- 
cited by  the  successive  afferent  impressions  of  the  steps 
accomplished.  Each  step  stimulates  the  next,  etc.  That 
tliere  is  no  voluntary  stimulation  after  the  first  is  seen  in 
cases  of  reverie  or  absent-mindedness,  when  we  go  along 
accustomed  paths  and  find  ourselves  where  we  least  in- 
tended to  "  bring  up."  The  distinction,  therefore,  is 
merely  one  in  degree  of  integration.  If  the  centers  are 
sufficiently  organized  "downward"  to  carr}^  out  the  en- 
tire chain  of  movements  when  once  begun,  we  have  a  pure 
reflex  ;  if  new  sensory  stimulation  is  necessary  at  each 
stage  in  the  series,  the  reaction  is  secondary-automatic. 

3.  Voluntary  Reaction.  A  third  great  class  of  nervous 
reactions  is  called  voluntary.  By  voluntary  reactions  are 
meant  such  motor  effects  as  follow  upon  the  conscious  will 


42  Tim  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

to  move.  Tiiey  cover  the  whole  class  of  intended  move- 
ments and  those  brought  about  by  greater  or  less  effort. 
Voluntary  movements  show  variation  in  several  distinct 
particulars  ;  such  as  strength,  continuance,  rapidity,  and 
direction. 

The  voluntary  reaction  undoubtedly  represents  the 
highest  stage  of  development  of  nerve-tissue  as  respects 
coraplexit}^,  or  the  lowest  stage  as  respects  consolida- 
tion and  fixedness.  It  is  the  polar  opposite  of  the  purely 
automatic  function.  The  nervous  elements  are  in  a  state 
of  extreme  mobility  and  instability.  The  connections 
through  its  mass  are  infinite  in  number  and  complexity, 
and  numberless  alternative  courses  are  accordingly  open 
to  the  motor  outburst  of  a  sense-stimulation.  Considering 
the  state  of  the  cerebral  center  dynamically,  we  may  say 
that  its  potential  energy  is  constantly  seeking  discharge, 
and  that  this  discharge  in  one  course  rather  than  another — 
the  course  pictured  and  designed  in  consciousness — repre- 
sents the  line  of  tension  which  is  chosen. 

The  last  expression,  though  ps3^chological,  is  necessary 
to  express  the  physiological  fact  which  distinguishes  such 
reactions.  The  stimulus  is  in  all  voluntary  reactions  a 
central  one,  and  a  conscious  pictured  one  ;  this  much  at 
least.  If  we  admit  that  no  discharge  from  the  centers  can 
take  place  without  a  previous  liberation  of  tension,  then  we 
may  divide  such  liberations  from  tension  into  two  classes  : 
that  which  is  brought  about  b}^  an  incoming  current,  and 
that  which  is  brouglit  about  by  an  earlier  cerebral  dis- 
charge. The  former  is  a  reflex  reaction,  the  latter  may  be 
a  voluntary  reaction.  One  at  least  of  the  conditions  of 
voluntary  action  is  fulfilled,  the  physiological  condition. 
Whether  this  is  sufficient  in  all  cases,  or  in  any  case,  to  ac. 
count  for  the  action,  it  is  our  subsequent  task  to  deter- 
mine. 

4.  Negative  Reaction  or  Inhibition.  Under  the  name 
of  inhibition,  or  arrest,  a  class  of  phenomena  is  included 


INHIBITION.  43 

which  are,  as  far  as  our  know  ledge  goes,  peculiar  to  nervous 
activities.  Every  positive  reaction  is  accompanied  by  a  re- 
verse wave,  an  arrest,  so  to  speak,  of  its  full  effects.  It  is 
analogous  to  a  negative  force  acting  to  counteract  and  neu- 
tralize the  outgoing  discharge.  It  seems  to  take  place  in 
the  center.  The  effective  force  of  a  reaction,  therefore,  is 
always  less  b}^  the  amount  of  nervous  arrest.  This  neutral- 
izing factor  has  been  measured  in  certain  conditions  of 
nerve-reaction. 

The  kind  of  reaction  showing  least  arrest  is  the  reflex  ; 
and,  in  general,  the  more  consolidated  a  nerve-track  or 
center,  the  less  exhibition  do  we  discover  of  the  reverse 
wave.  On  the  other  hand,  inhibition  is  at  its  maximum 
in  reactions  which  involve  centers  of  most  complex  activity. 
The  phenomena  of  voluntary  control — inhibition  by  the 
Avill — are  in  evidence  here,  however  w^e  may  construe  the 
will.  For  it  should  be  remembered  that  w^e  must  find  a 
mechanical  basis  for  muscular  control,  even  though  we 
advocate  a  directive  and  selective  function  of  will. 

Hence  we  may  say  that  inhibition  is  a  concomitant  of 
instability  and  complexity  of  nervous  tissue  ;  and  it  be- 
longs on  the  side  of  the  *'  upw^ard  "  growth  of  the  system. 

This  general  view  is  sustained  by  the  fact  now  estab- 
lished that  each  segmental  reflex  in  the  spinal  cord  is  sub- 
ject to  inhibition  from  the  higher  segments,  and  in  turn 
inhibits  those  lower  down.  The  reflexes  of  a  frog's  legs 
immersed  in  dilute  acid  are  more  rapid  and  violent  after 
the  hemispheres  have  been  removed — showing  the  normal 
inhibitive  function  of  the  cortex  ;  and  the  reflexes  of  a 
lizard's  tail  have  been  shown  to  increase  in  vigor  as  the  seg- 
ments of  the  spinal  cord  are  successivel}^  removed.  The 
same  lack  of  inhibition  appears  in  the  greater  automatism, 
suggestibilit}^,  and  wayward  impulsiveness  of  certain 
forms  of  insanit3^  The  same  truth  is  made  plain  from  the 
fact  that  lesions  of  the  motor  zone  of  the  cortex  in  man 
produce  greater  motor  disturbances  than  in  animals,  and 


44  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

greater  in  the  dog  than  in  tlie  rabbit  ;  the  inference  being 
that  the  snbcortical  centers  are  more  independent,  less  in- 
hibited, as  we  go  lower  down  in  the  scale  of  animal  organ- 
ization. 

§  4.  Corollaries  :  So-called  "  Principles  op 
Nervous  Action." 

The  foregoing  discussion  has  brought  us  to  a  position 
from  which  to  estimate  the  current  "  principles  of  nervous 
action."  That  they  are  corollaries  deducible  from  the 
more  particular  truths  already  cited  is  in  itself  proof 
of  the  truth  of  the  conception  sketched  in  the  foregoing 
pages.  These  "  principles  "  may  be  spoken  of  in  their  logi- 
cal order. 

I.  Principle  of  Specialization  of  Function.  Accord- 
ing to  this  principle,  different  regions  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem are  concerned  with  different  and  exclusive  functions. 
Most  important  consequences  flow  from  this  principle  in 
the  sphere  of  brain  physiology  and  anatomy.  And  in  the 
local  divisions  of  the  cerebral  surface  we  find  facts 
highly  important  to  our  own  science. 

Pacts  of  Specialization.  A  general  fact  or  two  may  be 
mentioned  in  view  of  subsequent  points  of  discussion.  In 
the  two  halves  or  hemispheres  of  the  brain  we  are  led  to 
recognize  a  twofold  or  duplicate  organ,  analogous,  to  the 
doubleness  of  the  eyes  while  performing  together  a  single 
function.  In  regard  to  the  function  of  the  brain  as  a  whole, 
we  may  say  that  in  the  main  it  is  performed  equally  well 
by  either  hemisphere  alone.  If  one  hemisphere  be  entirely 
removed  or  destroyed,  there  is  no  perceptible  impairment 
of  the  mind,  at  least  in  its  great  apperceptive  activities. 
The  hemispheres  are  moreover  capable  of  separate  activities 
at  the  same  time  ;  the  movements  of  organs  on  the  right 
side  of  the  body  which  are  governed  by  the  motor  area  in 
the  left  hemisphere,  may  be  different  from  simultaneous 
movements  on  the  left  side  governed  by  the  motor  area  in 


SPECIA  LIZA  TIOK  45 

the  right  heniispliere.  Again,  there  are  certain  functions 
Avhich  are  presided  over  by  one  of  the  hemispheres  exchi- 
sively,  the  other  having  no  part  in  them  :  the  motor  speech- 
center  is  in  the  left  hemisphere  for  right-lianded  persons, 
and  it  is  probable  that  there  is  a  corresponding  functional 
development  for  the  delicate  movements  of  one  hand  only, 
as  in  writing,  etc.  Accordingly,  instead  of  considering 
the  brain  as  two  duplicate  organs,  either  of  which  might  be 
educated  to  perform  all  the  cerebral  offices,  we  have  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  double  organ  whose  functions  are  partly  separate 
and  partly  conjoint.  That  is,  the  facts  point  to  the  con- 
clusion that  {a)  there  is  a  class  of  functions  over  which  the 
hemispheres  have  conjoint  dominion  :  functions  which  they 
may  perform  together  and  which  either  may  perform  alone, 
and  functions  which  the}'  must  perform  together  and  can- 
not perform  alone  ;  and  {b)  there  are  functions  which  are 
peculiar  to  each  alone  :  which  one  must  perform  alone,  and 
in  which  the  other  has  no  share. 

The  great  divisions  of  function  may  be  stated  in  general 
terms  under  three  heads  in  accordance  with  the  facts  now 
presented. 

1.  PureljM-eflex  functions  are  presided  over  by  the  spinal 
cord  and  lower  centers. 

2.  The  automatic  functions  proceed  out  from  the 
"central"  and  "tegmental"  systems  of  centers. 

3.  Sensation  and  voluntary  movement  have  their  seat  in 
man  in  the  cortex  of  the  brain. 

If  1  atid  2  be  considered  together  as  giving  only  one 
degree  of  complexity,  and  3  be  added  as  giving  another 
decree,  we  may  show  their  relation  by  Fig.  11,  in  which 
the  circuit  s,  c,  mt,  represents  all  reactions  not  voluntary, 
and  s,  c,  sp,  mp^  e,  mt,  those  which  are  voluntar3\ 

For  convenience  in  later  discussion,  the  higher  reaction 
may  be  taken  alone  and  simplified,  as  in  Fig.  12,  called 
the  "  motor  square  "  ;  in  which  we  have  the  three  elements 
jis  before  (.*?/>,  mp,  mt)  with  an  added   element  (>/?<'),  i.  6"., 


46 


THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 


the  consciousness  of  movement  accomplished  (represented 
by  the  dotted  line  mc  in  Fig.  11),  the  lower  centers  (c) 
being  here  left  out  of  account. 

The  degree  to  which  the  cortex  serves  the  purposes  of 
mind  above  the  bare  reception  of  present  stimuli  and 
mechanical  reaction  upon  them,  is  seen  in  tlie  behavior  of 
animals  deprived  of  the  cortex.  Frogs  and  pigeons  have 
been  fully  tested  in  view  of  this  question.     It  is  found,  in 


mjp 


sense  organ 


mt 
muscla 


Fig.  11. 


Fig.  12. 


s,  c,  mt  =  Reflex  circuit  (1  and  2  of  text). 

s,  c,  sp,  mp,  c,  mt  =  Voluntary  circuit  (3  of  text). 

brief,  that  the  life  and  reactions  of  the  creature  are  unim- 
paired as  far  as  the  immediate  environment  is  concerned  : 
it  lives,  breathes,  flies,  sees,  eats,  carries  out  reactions  of 
response  to  direct  stimulation.  But  it  fails  to  respond  to 
remote  stimuli  ;  the  reactions  are  for  the  most  part  unin- 
fluenced either  by  the  past  or  the  future.  The  creature 
lacks  spontaneity.  Memory  has  disappeared ;  so  have 
generalization  and  purpose.  Tiie  creature  has  sensations, 
but  not  jjerceptions,  as  far  as  a  line  can  be  drawn  between 
tliese  states.     It  fails  to  recognize  and  it  fails  to  attend.     It 


CEREBRAL  LOCALIZATIOX.  47 

is  plain,  then,  that  such  a  hemisphereless  creature  lacks 
largely  the  co-ordinating,  retaining,  relating,  or,  as  it  is  called 
below,  the  apperceiving,  function.  It  illustrates  wluit,  on 
Hume's  theory  of  knowledge,  ought  to  be  the  condition  of 
us  all.  Tlie  terras  psycA/c-blindness,  ^:>sycA/c'-deaf  ness,  etc., 
are  given  to  this  condition,  in  which  there  is  no  physical 
blindness,  etc.,  but  in  which  sensations  have  lost  their 
mental  meaning. 

As  for  particular  reactions,  however,  the  greatest  differ- 
ence is  found  in  different  animals.  In  dogs  and  birds  many 
functions  are  performed  by  tlie  lower  centers  which  are 
presided  over  by  the  hemispheres  exclusively  in  monkeys 
and  in  man.  This  illustrates  what  has  been  observed 
above,  i.  e.,  that  reactions  at  one  time  reasonable  and  intel- 
ligent may  become  nervous  and  mechanical :  and  this  con- 
sideration, based  upon  extended  experimental  proof,  leads 
us  to  recognize,  below,  the  great  elasticity  of  the  system  as 
regards  specialization.  When  these  maimed  animals  are 
kept  alive,  their  condition  improves,  and  they  begin  to  get 
something  of  their  intelligence  back  again. 

Cerebral  Localization.*  The  question  as  to  whether 
there  are  local  areas  in  the  cortex  or  gray  matter  of  the 
brain  which  are  especially  active  in  the  exercise  of  the 
sense  and  motor  activities,  is  of  great  importance  for 
general  psj'^chology.  Experiments  have  been  very  conflict- 
ing in  their  results,  but  it  is  now  generally  admitted  that 
there  are  a  limited  number  of  w^ell  ascertained  areas.  The 
motor  functions  are  grouped  around  the  fissure  of  Rolando, 
extending  roughly  from  the  vertex  of  the  skull  downward 
and  forward  in  a  line  which  passes  slightly  in  front  of  the 
orifice  of  the  ear.  The  centers  for  the  leg,  arm,  and  face 
are  in  the  order  named,  proceeding  downward.  The  special 
muscular  groups  involved  in  the  finer  movements  of  these 
organs  are  distributed  on  both  sides  of  the  Rolandic  fissure. 
Movements  of  speech  have  their  center  for  right-handed 
persons  in  the  third  frontal  gyre  of  the  left  hemisphere, 
'  Cf .  figures  opposite  the  title-page, 


48  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

The  sensory  area  comprehends  the  region  lying  back  of 
and  beneath  the  motor  zone  ;  the  fissure  of  Sylvius  being  a 
rough  horizontal  boundary  between  tlie  motor  and  sensory 
areas.  Of  the  special  senses,  sight  is  located  in  the  occip- 
ital lobe,  including  the  so-called  angular  gyre  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  Sylvian  fissure.  The  centers  for  hearing,  taste, 
and  smell  lie,  less  exactly,  in  the  temporo-sphenoidal  lobe, 
the  horizontal  area  below  the  fissure  of  Sylvius. 

In  man  the  destruction  of  the  frontal  lobes  seems  to 
bring  about  a  higlier  kind  of  "  psj^chic  blindness"  :  a  loss 
of  voluntary  attention,  co-ordination,  and  thought.  The 
liypothesis  is  widely  current  that  these  lobes  are  the  final 
center  of  convergence  for  the  connections  between  the 
sensory  and  motor  centers  of  the  brain.  Tlie  loss  of  con- 
nection between  this  seat  and  any  other  area  cuts  the  latter 
with  its  store  of  memories  off  from  its  full  role  in  the 
mental  life.  For  example,  speech  may  be  impaired  by  the 
loss  of  any  one  of  three  functions  located  in  different  areas, 
^.  e.,  word-seeing,  word-hearing,  and  Avord-uttering. 

II.  Principle  of  Indifference  of  Function.  The  prin- 
ciple of  indifference  includes  the  class  of  facts  which  show 
that  the  nerve-courses  are  not  the  agents  of  different  or 
specific  forces,  but  parts  of  a  common  svsteni  and  agents 
of  a  common  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  find  that  differ- 
ent courses  can  be  made  to  perform  each  other's  function. 
If  a  piece  of  sensor  nerve  be  joined  to  a  cut  end  of  a  motor 
nerve  and  grow  in  place,  it  will  conduct  the  motor  impulse 
continuously  with  the  motor  piece.  Tlie  contrary  is  also 
true.  Tiie  range  of  such  experiments  is  very  limited,  since 
it  is  impossible  to  exchange  the  end-connections  of  nerves 
either  centrally  or  peripherally  ;  but  the  facts  at  hand 
establish  conclusively  the  princij)le  of  indifference  as  re- 
gards the  sensor  and  motor  nerve-tracts.  In  its  applica- 
tion to  the  centers  the  same  principle  has  a  different  name, 
since  it  takes  a  somewhat  different  form  of  manifestation, 
i,  e.y  the  principle  of  subsfitntiofi. 


PRTNCIPLE  OF  SUBSTITUTIOX.  49 

III.  Principle  of  Substitution.  The  question  here  is 
tliis  :  Can  the  nerve-centers  be  made  to  take  up  each 
other's  function  ?  Researclies  in  cerebral  localization, 
chiefly  upon  animals,  tend  to  show  that  such  a  substitution 
of  function  is  possible,  at  least  to  a  limited  degree.  The 
removal  of  a  cortical  center,  which  occasions  loss  of  one 
of  the  special  senses,  say  sight,  or  the  loss  of  control  over 
a  certain  muscular  area,  seems  to  be  made  good  by  the  as- 
sumption of  the  deranged  function  by  a  contiguous,  or,  at 
least,  a  connected  center.  At  any  rate  the  animal  recovers, 
if  kept  alive  a  sufticiently  long  period.  The  word  "  seems" 
is  used  advisedly,  for  it  is  still  uncertain  whether  the  loss 
of  such  a  function  is  due  to  the  destruction  of  the  entire 
apparatus  normally  reacting  to  this  function,  or  to  its  par- 
tial loss,  the  remaining  elements  being  temporarily  in- 
hibited by  so-called  "  physiological  shock,"  or,  in  the  case 
of  electrical  stimulation,  by  diffusion  of  the  current.  The 
latter  is  known  to  be  the  case  in  many  of  the  experiments 
on  brain-tissue,  especially  when  the  surgical  method  is 
employed  without  the  extremest  care.  This  latter  view  is 
also  supported  by  the  remarkable  fact  that  in  the  monkey 
and  man  these  substitutions  are  exceedingly  rare  ;  a  result 
v:e  would  expect  on  the  shock  theory,  considering  the 
higher  degree  of  delicacy  and  differentiation  attained  by 
the  system  in  these  higher  organisms.  Yet  in  the  case  of 
rabbits  and  dogs,  such  substitution  of  function,  notably 
of  the  sight-function,  is  probably  established  on  a  firm 
basis. 

IV.  Principle  of  Specific  Connection.  The  limits  which 
the  growth  of  the  organistn  sets  to  the  substitution  of 
functions  find  their  expression  in  what  is  called  "  specific 
connection"  through  the  system.  By  this  principle  is 
meant,  in  general,  two  things  :  First,  that  nerve-courses 
are  specific  only  according  as  they  have  certain  well- 
defined  connections  at  center  or  periphery.  These  con- 
nections keep  the  courses  to  an  invariable  function.     The 


50  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

optic  nerve  has  a  specific  connection  with  the  retina  and 
with  the  optic  center  in  the  brain  ;  the  auditory  nerve 
with  the  ear  and  the  center  for  hearing  ;  and  so  on.  In 
this  case,  it  is  the  end-organ  or  the  center  which  is  specific, 
not  the  nerve- tract.  And  second,  it  means  that  nerve- 
centers  are  specific  according  as  their  connections  necessi- 
tate their  reacting  to  a  specific  stimulus.  The  optic  center 
has  specific  connections  with  the  retina  through  the  optic 
nerve  ;  tlie  center  for  sounds  with  the  ear,  through  the 
auditory  nerve,  and  so  on.  Now  there  are  as  many  of 
these  specific  connections  as  there  are  kinds  of  stimuli 
issuing  in  motor  reactions.  Consequently,  the  only  specific 
things  after  all  are  the  stimulus  and  the  movement. 

V.  Principle  of  Summation  of  Stimuli.  If  the  stimu- 
lus more  than  overcomes  the  arrest  in  a  given  case,  there  is 
loft  over,  so  to  speak,  a  surplus  of  positive  energy,  or  posi- 
tive "  molecular  work."  This  positive  molecular  work  is 
work  of  reaction,  or  exhaustion  of  the  system  ;  negative 
work  being  inhibitory  or  conserving.  This  surplus  repre- 
sents, therefore,  a  disposition  favorable  to  a  second  stimu- 
lus of  the  same  kind.  We  have,  therefore,  here  a  certain 
summation  of  stimuli  in  cases  of  recurring  excitations  of 
the  same  character.  After  moving  the  thumbs  in  a  certain 
rotatory  manner  a  certain  number  of  times,  we  say  they 
are  "  ready "  for  that  movement  ;  they  have  taken  on  a 
disposition  to  react  to  the  same  stimulus  again.  This  union 
of  former  stimuli  with  later  in  the  nervous  center,  giving 
an  easier  and  smoother  reaction,  is  the  phenomenon  of  sum- 
mation. Its  most  remarkable  exhibition  is  seen  in  cases 
in  which  the  earlier  stimulus  is  not  sufficient  to  overcome 
the  arrest  or  inertia  of  the  center,  and  does  not  give  a  re- 
action at  all  ;  so  a  weak  electrical  stimulus  :  even  here  we 
find  the  center  so  "  prepared  "  by  this  insufticient  stimulus 
that  it  responds  when  that  identical  stimulus  is  repeated  a 
sufficient  number  of  times.  The  most  favorable  interval 
between  such  shocks  is  about  .001  second.     The  successive 


HABIT  AND  ACCOMMODATION.  51 

blows  of  a  toothed  wheel  upon  a  metallic  tongue  give  an 
audible  sound  when  a  single  such  blow  is  inaudible. 

The  different  senses  vary  very  much  in  the  interval  of 
time  between  successive  stimulations  necessar\^  to  prevent 
summation  or  fusion  ;  the  finger  discriminates  1000  touches 
per  second  ;  an  interval  of  .005  second  is  sufficient  to  keep 
sharp  sounds  apart  ;  electric  shocks  on  the  forehead  fuse 
if  more  than  60  occur  per  second.  With  sensations  of 
sight,  the  fusion  occurs  across  a  greater  interval,  say  .05 
second,  by  reason  of  the  persistence  of  optical  after-images. 

§  5.  FiffAL  Statement  of  Nervous  Function. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  give  the  general  conception 
of  nervous  function  in  broadest  statement ;  a  statement  the 
accepted  terms  of  which  have  great  psychological  signifi- 
cance. All  the  phenomena  of  consolidation  or  "  down- 
ward growtli,"  on  the  one  hand,  illustrate  what  is  known 
as  the  law  of  Habit;  all  the  phenomena  of  specialization, 
or  "  upward  growth,"  illustrate  the  law  of  Accommodation. 

Law  of  Habit.  Ph\^siologically,  habit  means  readiness 
for  function,  produced  by  previous  exercise  of  the  function. 
Anatomically,  it  means  tiie  arrangement  of  elements  more 
suitably  for  a  function,  in  consequence  of  former  modifi- 
cations of  arrangement  through  that  function.  Psycho- 
logically, it  means  loss  of  oversight,  diffusion  of  attention, 
subsiding  consciousness. 

Law  of  Accommodatioii.  Physiologically  and  anatomi- 
cally, accommodation  means  the  breaking  up  of  a  habit, 
the  widening  of  the  organic  for  the  reception  or  accom- 
modation of  a  new  condition.  Psychologically,  it  means 
reviving  consciousness,  concentration  of  attention,  volun- 
tary control — the  mental  state  which  has  its  most  general 
expression  in  what  we  know  as  Interest.^  In  habit  and 
interest  we  find  the  psychological  poles  corresponding  to 
the  lowest  and  the  highest  in  the  activities  t)l"  the  nervous 
system. 

'  See  (lie  discussion  of  "  Interest  "  below,  chap.  xix.  §  1 


CHAPTER  ly. 

CLASSIFICATION  AND  DIVISION. » 
§  1.  Three  Great  Classes. 

Besides  their  common  characteristic,  consciousness, 
mental  facts  have  special  cliaracteristics  which  distinguish 
them  from  one  another  and  by  which  they  may  be  divided 
into  great  classes.  The  necessity  of  this  classification  is 
seen  in  the  great  multiplicity  and  variety  of  these  facts. 
In  the  beginning  of  every  science,  the  statement  is  neces- 
sary of  the  natural  knowledge  of  resemblances  and  differ- 
ences, which  we  may  use  as  a  starting-point  for  investiga- 
tion. In  this  classification  two  great  dangers  are  to  be 
avoided.  First,  many  psychologists,  neglecting  real  re- 
semblances, have  made  too  many  divisions  or  faculties,  in 
a  measure  dividing  the  mind  into  independent  princi- 
palities and  losing  sight  of  the  unity  of  nature  which  under- 
lies all  phenomena  of  mind.  Again,  others  go  to  the  other 
extreme  in  excessive  opposition  to  the  "  faculty  theory," 
especially  in  recent  years,  and  fail  to  recognize  essential 
differences  in  mental  states. 

In  the  main,  however,  it  is  agreed  that  there  are  three 
great  classes  of  facts  in  the  mental  life,  however  strongly 
the  attempt  to  reduce  tliem  further  may  be  urged.  These 
three  classes  express  t'le  residt  of  three  distinct  functions 
of  the  mind  :  Intellect^  Feelmg,  and  Will.  They  may  be 
called  :  1st,  Presentative,  or  intellectual  states  ;  2d,  Affect- 
ive, or  states  of  feeling  ;  and  3d,  Volitional,  or  states  of 
will.     These  great  departments  of  mental  fact  are  shown 

'  llamlbook,  vol.  i.  cliap.  iii 


THREE  (iUEAT  CLASSES.  53 

in  the  very  distinct  propositions,  "I  feel  somehow,"  "I 
know  somethinor  "  "  I  do  soniethino-."  ^ 

The  grounds  of  this  classification  are  found  m  immediate 
consciousness,  and  it  can  find  its  justification  only  in  an 
appeal  to  direct  experience.  The  presentative  states  have 
as  their  common  characteristic  their  reference  to  a  t/iinr/  or 
object.  Knowledge  is  a  function  of  mind  only  as  there  is 
something  to  be  known,  and  in  the  higher  forms  of  its 
operation  its  states  are  taken  to  re-present  or  signify  ob- 
jects. In  its  earliest  beginnings  also,  in  sensation,  the 
objective  bearing  of  knowledge,  as  affording  us  a  reference 
away  from  ourselves  to  a  something  which  is  presented  to 
consciousness, 'is  its  distinguislung  feature. 

The  affective  states,  on  the  contrary,  as  states  of  feeling, 
lack  this  element  of  objectivity  ;  that  is,  they  are  states  in 
which  consciousness  is  itself  affected  primarily  (pain,  fear). 
They  may  be  entirely  lacking  in  the  presentative  or 
knowledge  element,  or  the  two  may  be  combined  in 
any  degree  of  connection.  They  extend  from  the  simplest 
bodily  feelings  to  the  highest  emotions,  and  include 
impulses,  temperaments,  and  i>ersonal  tendencies  of  all 
kinds. 

In  strong  contrast  to  these  well-marked  divisions  the 
third  class,  volitional  states,  stand  out  in  consciousness 
distinguished  by  a  characteristic  foreign  to  the  other  two, 
the  sense  of  effort  or  c.vertion.  It  takes  the  forms  of 
mental  attention,  choice,  and  resolution. 

The  other  orders  of  mental  facts  may  or  may  not  exhibit 
this  will-element.  I  ma}^  be  passively  affected  by  pain  or 
emotion,  or  I  may  be  conscious  of  a  free  pla}^  of  presenta- 
tions with  no  effort  of  nw  own  to  control  or  direct  them. 
This  last  phase,  therefore,  may  be  set  apart  as  a  third  class, 
and  as  representing  a  third  function. 

MVard,  Eiicyc.  Britannica,  art.  "Psychology." 


54  CLASSIFICATION  AND  DIVISION. 

§  2.  tJxiTY  OF  THE  Three  Classes  in 

COXSCIOUSXESS. 

With  tlie  distinction  of  the  three  classes  of  mental  fact 
and  the  three  functions  they  represent  clearly  brouglit 
out,  it  must  still  b^  remembered  that  the  latter  are  merely 
functions.  They  are  not  three  psychological  lives  which 
lie  parallel  with  one  another.  They  are  a  single  life. 
Their  unity  in  a  single  principle  may  be  seen  under  several 
aspects. 

I.  T/iey  have  unity  of  end.  They  are  functions  of  a 
common  mental  organism  and  minister  to  its  development. 
The  unity  of  the  body  is  realized  in  the  unity  of  the  func- 
tions of  the  different  organs.  The  end  of  all  is  the  con- 
servation and  development  of  the  whole.  So  the  intel- 
lectual functions  are  one,  in  their  tendency  to  preserve  the 
independence  of  the  self  and  accomplish  its  destiny.  "By 
intelligence  we  conceive  the  end  of  conduct,  b}''  sensibility 
we  are  excited  to  produce  it,  and  by  will  we  govern  these 
impulses  in  the  light  of  reason  and  assure  the  victory  of 
the  best.  Without  intelligence,  man  is  blind  ;  without 
feeling,  he  is  inert  ;  without  will,  he  is  a  slave."  ^ 

II.  2'hey  are  one  in  their  collective  activity.  Each 
seems  to  depend  on  the  others  in  an  essential  way.  At- 
tention is  necessary  to  all  thought,  and  feeling  is  often 
necessarj'^  to  direct  or  is  effectual  in  preventing  the  direc- 
tion of  the  attention.  In  its  reflex  activity,  attention 
seems  to  be  a  representative  or  relating  function,  but  it 
has  the  fundamental  quality  of  will  in  its  active  exercise 
as  mental  effort.  A  volition,  as  has  been  said,  proceeds 
upon  ideas  and  appetences  to  such  an  extent  that  one 
school  of  psj^chologists  reduce  will  to  the  conflict  of  ideas 
and  another  make  it  a  conflict  of  feelings.  Feeling  also 
involves  images  or  ideas,  through  memory  or  imagination, 
or  arises  from  association,  and  all  of  these  are  representa- 

'  Rabier,  loc.  cit.,    Compare  throughout  this  section. 


DIVISION.  56 

tive.     And   it  seems  possible,  sometimes,  to  originate  the 
train  from  whicli  feeling  arises  by  a  powerful  act  of  will. 

III.  They  find  their  formal  unity  in  consciousness.  The 
completed  view  of  the  mind  ends,  as  it  began,  with  con- 
sciousness, a^  the  necessary  background  and  formal  unity 
of  the  whole.  Consciousness  bespeaks  the  unit  being,  the 
subject  of  this  threefold  activity,  and  in  its  healthfulness 
or  derangement,  under  normal  stimulation  of  this  threefold 
order,  the  proper  balance  and  end  of  the  whole  is  accom- 
plished. 

§  3.  Division  of  the  Subject. 

In  view  of  the  above  classification,  the  subject-matter  of 
psychology  falls  into  convenient  parts  for  treatment.  In 
addition  to  the  three  great  classes  of  facts  spoken  of,  the 
form  or  mark  which  is  common  to  them  all,  consciousness, 
must  be  considered.  There  are,  accordingly,  the  following 
four  great  divisions  : 

Part  I.    General  Characteristics  of  Mind. 

Part  II.  Intellect. 

Part  III.  Feeling. 

Part  IV.    Will. 


PART  I. 
GENERAL    CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MIND, 


CHAPTER  y. 

CONSCIOUSNESS.' 

In  the  foregoing  chapters  the  term  consciousness  has  been 
used  without  explanation.  Familiarity  with  it  in  the  gen- 
eral significance  it  bears  in  ordinary  discourse  has  been 
assumed.  It  is  necessar^^,  however,  at  the  outset,  to  inquire 
more  fully  into  its  nature  and  position  in  the  science. 

§  1.  Nature  of  Consciousness. 

Definition.  Disregarding  less  important  varieties,  we 
may  say  that  two  general  views  of  the  nature  of  conscious- 
ness prevail  among  psychologists.  On  the  one  liand,  it  is 
held  that  consciousness  is  itself  a  capacity,  function,  or 
faculty  of  mind,  an  inner  sense  for  the  perception  of  the 
mind  and  its  states,  as  sight  and  hearing  are  outer  senses 
for  the  perception  of  body.  This  view  rests  upon  the  fact 
of  reflection,  the  developed  means  of  observation  of  inner 
states,  which  has,  in  common  with  sense-perception,  the 
relation  of  subject  and  object  within  itself  ;  but  not  upon 
the  original  awareness  which  we  have  of  our  first  experi- 
ences. This  latter  bears  no  analogy  whatever  to  external 
perception;  This  doctrine  of  consciousness  makes  it  not 
essential,  but  accidental,  to  mind,  an  added  thing,  whii-.h 
may  be  wanting,  as  external  senses,  memor}?-,  imagination, 
may  be  wanting  ;  and  admits  the  supposition  of  uncon- 
scious mind. 

^Handbook,  vol.  i.  chap,  iv,  and  vol.  ii.  chap.  ii. 
5C 


ITS  AUEA.  57 

The  opposing  view  is  this,  that  consciousness  is  the  com- 
mon and  necessary  form  of  all  mental  states  ;  without  it 
mind  is  not  and  cannot  be.  It  is  the  point  of  division  and 
differentiation  between  mind  and  not-mind. 

From  the  empirical  point  of  view  we  may  make  the  fol- 
lowing observations  : 

1.  Consciousness  is  not  a  power  or  energy  of  mind.  It 
does  not  involve  the  conscious  effort  of  attention.  In  a 
state  of  reminiscence,  of  reverie,  the  states  of  mind  are  un- 
controlled, and  come  and  go  with  no  let  or  hindrance  from 
the  mind.  We  are  then  fully  conscious  of  this  play  of 
states,  but  of  no  exercise  of  mental  effort  accompan^^ing  it. 

2.  Consciousness  is  not  an  organ  of  the  mind,  to  be  used 
b}^  the  inner  subject  in  perceiving  his  states.  It  is  not  an 
inner  sense,  since  it  accompanies  tliC  exercise  of  all  the 
senses  and  is  necessary  to  tlieir  function.  The  senses  have 
specific  physical  basis  also,  wliile  consciousness  depends 
upon  the  liealth}^  and  normal  activity  of  the  sensorium  as  a 
whole.  Consciousness  is,  therefore,  the  0)ie  conditioii  and 
abiding  characteristic  of  mental  states} 

§  2.  Area  of  Coxsciousxess. 

The  area  of  consciousness  is  the  sum  of  the  presentations 
at  any  time  in  consciousness,  whether  tliey  be  distinct  or 
vague.  Experiments  show  tliat  twelve  to  fifteen  strokes  of 
a  pendulum  can  be  held  in  consciousness  at  once  Avithout 
counting  or  grouping.  If  they  be  grouped  by  fives,  as 
mau}^  as  forty  ma}^  be  retained.  The  most  favorable  inter- 
val between  them  is  .2  to  .3  second.  Consciousness  may 
be  likened  to  the  visual  field  in  which  objects  are  scattered, 
those  being  most  clearly  seen  which  are  in  the  line  of  direct 
vision  or  center  of  the  field,  and  those  which  lie  near  the 
circumference  most  indistinct.  Between  these  limits  there 
are  all  degrees  of  distinctness.     So  ideas  are   distinct   or 

'On  the  theory  of  ''Unconscious  Mind"  see  my  Handbook  of 
Psycliology ,  vol.  i.  chap.  iv.  §  3. 


^8  CONSCIOnSNESS. 

vague  in  consciousness  according  as  they  are  in  the  line  of 
mental  vision,  or  attention.  The  idea  attended  to  is  most 
distinct,  those  connected  closel}^  with  it  in  any  way  less  so, 
and  those  which  are  accidentally  present  and  quite  unob- 
served actively,  least  so.  According  as  they  lie  in  one  or 
other  locality  of  this  general  distribution,  consciousness  of 
them  is  said  to  have  different  degrees  or  forms. 

Degrees  of  Consciousness.  These  may  be  illustrated 
by  an  example.  As  I  write,  the  noise  of  my  pen  is  almost 
unnoticed.  If  continued  some  time,  it  is  no  longer  noticed 
and  is  said  to  be  subconscious.  If  the  pen  is  a  poor  one, 
and  scratches  more  as  used,  I  continue  to  write,  though 

1.  The  Unconscious  (physiological). 

2.  The  Subconscious.  ) 

3.  Diffused  Consciousness.  )     '^^^^^^* 
f  Reactive  Con- 

4.  Active  Consciousness  !      sciousness. 
or  Attention.  j  Voluntary  Con- 

[     sciousness. 

5.  Apperception. 

Fig.  13.— Graphic  Representation  of  Area  of  Consciousness,  after  Analogy 
with  Vision. 

conscious  of  the  disturbing  noise,  but  give  it  no  attention. 
It  is  then  said  to  be  in  a  state  of  diffused  consciousness. 
Thus  a  thousand  things  around  us — the  table,  chair,  books 
— are  present  to  our  minds,  but  we  are  passive  in  regard  to 
them.  If  now  my  attention  is  drawn  involuntarily  to  mj^ 
pen  we  have  reactive  consciousness,  or  reflex  attention,'  and 
if  I  voluntarily  examine  the  point  in  order  to  remedy  it, 
there  is  an  active  puiting  forth  of  myself  mentally;  there 
arises  active  consciousness  or  voluntary  attention.  Tlie 
state  of  things  in  which  the  attention  is  concentrated  upon 
an  image  is  apperception.  Further,  all  the  lower  condi- 
tions, in  which  there  is  no  attention,  either  voluntary  or 
involuntary,  may  be  designated  in  common  as  passive  con- 
sciousness.    See  Fig.  13. 


APPERCEPTION.  59 

It  is  well  to  note  the  play  of  ideas  through  all  these 
forms  of  transition,  from  the  dark  region  of  subconscious- 
ness to  the  brilliant  focus  of  attention.  Images  pass 
both  ways  constantl}^,  acting  varyingly  upon  one  another 
and  making  up  the  w^onderful  kaleidoscope  of  the  inner 
life. 

Apperception.  Apperception  characterizes  the  changes 
which  take  place  in  active  consciousness.  By  it  is 
meant  the  synthesis  in  consciousness  by  which  mental  data 
of  any  kind  (sensations^  percepts,  concepts^  are  constructed 
into  higher  forms  of  relation  and  the  perception  of  things 
which  are  related  becomes  the  perception  of  the  relation  of 
things.  '  "  Tlie  two  presentations  a  and  ^,"  says  Lotze/ 
"  constitute  siniplj-  occasions  Avhereby  the  reaction  of  a 
spiritual  activity  is  aroused,  through  which  new  presenta- 
tions— such  as  similarity,  identity,  contrast,  arise — presen- 
tations which  w^ould  not  be  possible  without  the  exercise  of 
this  new  spiritual  activity."  The  relation  of  percepts  is 
not  the  same  as  the  perception  of  relation.  Apperception 
is  the  comprehensive  "power  of  discovering  relations"; 
but  is  not  limited  to  the  operations  of  reasoning.  It  is  the 
essential  fact,  as  shall  appear  in  all  the  stages  of  mental 
generalization. 

This  use  of  the  word  apperception  to  express  the  broadest 
act  of  mental  relation  is  of  great  importance  and  value. 
The  treatment  of  the  very  distinct  and  familiar  act  of 
mind  in  attention,  of  grasping  details  and  relating  them  to 
one  another  in  a  new  mental  product,  has  heretofore  been 
confined  to  its  special  operations — as  perception,  concep- 
tion, judgment — to  each  of  which  a  different  name  was 
given.  The  term  apperception  singles  out  that  act  of 
mind  which  is  common  to  them  all — the  relating  activity 
of  attention — and  thus,  by  its  general  application,  em- 
phasizes the  unity  of  the  intellectual  function  as  a  whole. 
In  general,  we  may  say,  whenever  by  an  act  of  attention 
'  Outline  of  Psychology,  §  23. 


60  C0X8CI0  U8NE88. 

mental  data  are  unified  into  a  related  whote,  this  is  an  act 
of  apperception. 

§  3.  Development  of  Coxsciousxess. 

The  beginnings  of  consciousness  are  enveloped  in  great 
obscurity.  Shortly  after  birth  a  child  begins  to  show 
signs  of  memory  and  of  the  power  of  connecting  impres- 
sions. But  both  the  memor^^  and  power  of  association 
are  very  weak  and  depend  upon  intense  degrees  of  excita- 
tion, as  a  very  bright  light  or  a  very  loud  noise.  Wlien 
the  child  is  several  months  old,  a  familiar  person  is  for- 
gotten after  a  week's  absence.  Gradually  attention  is  dis- 
covered, at  first  vague  and  discontinuous,  and  after  a  few 
weeks  becoming  more  persistent  and  intelligent.  This  is 
shown  earliest  for  sight  and  touch,  the  two  senses  which 
discover  space  relations.  It  is  probable  that  the  earliest 
consciousness  is  a  mass  of  touch  and  muscular  sensations 
experienced  in  part  before  birth,  and  that  it  is  only  as  the 
special  senses  become  adapted  to  their  living  environment 
and  sensitive  to  their  peculiar  forms  of  excitation,  that  the 
general  organic  condition  is  broken  up  and  the  kinds  of 
sensation  differentiated.  This  process  of  differentiation  of 
the  sensations  of  touch  and  muscular  sense  gives  us  very 
early  the  form  of  our  own  body  and  the  locality  of  its 
l^arts,  and  this  serves  as  point  of  departure  for  the  placing 
of  external  objects.  The  movements  of  the  body  contrib- 
ute largely  to  the  apprehension  of  the  dimensions,  forms 
and  areas  of  things  in  space.  The  movements  of  the  body 
are  at  first  random  and  without  control,  arising  from  nervous 
discharge  under  conditions  of  physical  discomfort. 

The  child  then  passes  through  a  stage  of  development  in 
which  its  movements  are  largely  adaptations  of  the  organ- 
ism to  outside  stimulations.  After  the  sixth  or  seventh 
month  imitation  of  others'  movements  becomes  its  prevailing 
reaction.  In  "persistent  imitation" — the  trj^-try- again, 
experience — we   have   the   first   voluntary  efforts   of    the 


ITS  DEVELOPMENT.  61 

child.'  These  effort-movements  gradually  take  on  a  positive 
character,  but  even  after  two  or  three  years  it  is  difficult  for 
the  child  to  execute  any  given  combination  of  movements. 
This  fact  of  control  of  the  bod}^  seems  to  be  the  first  be- 
ginning of  the  exercise  of  will.  It  involves  a  subjective 
reference  more  distinct  and  peculiar  to  itself  than  any  of 
the  purely  affective  sensations,  and  leads  on  to  the  notion 
of  the  Zand  so  to  56{/*-consciousness. 

The  development  of  consciousness  is  largely  dependent 
upon  the  development  of  the  physical  organism.  The 
senses  must  be  awake  to  their  functions  before  the  mind 
can  exhibit  its  functions.  Not  till  the  eyes  are  open  and 
in  proper  movement  can  the  impressions  of  that  sense  be- 
gin to  play  their  very  great  role  in  the  forms  of  external 
perception.  So  also  must  the  centers  become  accustomed 
to  their  reactions.  If  we  liken  the  elective  activities  of 
the  developed  nervous  system  to  lines  of  least  resistance, 
we  may  say  that,  for  the  very  young  child,  such  organic 
pathways  are  largely  wanting  and  they  must  be  established 
and  maintained  by  actual  exercise.  These  early  physical 
modifications  becoming  more  and  more  definite  and  multi- 
plied, the  more  complex  forms  of  mental  function  are  made 
possible.  Like  other  organs  of  the  body,  also,  the  brain 
grows  in  size  and  complexity.  It  attains  its  largest  size 
probably  much  before  the  maturity  of  manhood  ;  but  its 
structural  development,  which  consists  in  the  differentia- 
tion of  parts  for  special  functions  and  the  establishment  of 
various  connections  throughout  its  bulk,  is  then  but  well 
begun.  The  basal  ganglia  seem  to  develop  their  activities 
earlier  than  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  This  is  to  be  ex- 
pected, since  they  are  connected  with  the  organic  and 
essential  processes  of  the  body. 

•  On  the  development  of  the  child's  active  life  see  my  articles,  "Sug- 
gestion in  Infancy,"  "  Infants'  Movements,"  "  Origin  of  Volition  in 
Childhood,"  in  Science,  February  27,  1891,  Januarys,  1892,  and  No- 
vcniber  18,  1892. 


62  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  relative  value  of  different  images  in  the  early  stages 
of  mental  growth  is  illustrated  by  the  following  experi- 
ment ^  made  by  the  writer  upon  a  girl  six  and  one-half 
months  old.  The  child's  nurse,  who  had  been  with  her  for 
five  months,  was  absent  for  three  weeks,  and  on  her  re- 
turn was  not  recognized  by  her  face  alone,  nor  by  her 
voice  'alone  (spoken  words),  but  was  fully  recognized  by 
sight  (face)  and  sound  (nursery  rhyme)  images  together. 

§  4.  Nervous  Conditions  of  Consciousness. 

General  Conditions.  There  are  two  great  theories  of  the 
physical  basis  of  consciousness  :  the  first,  represented  by 
Mr.  Lewes,'*  holds  that  the  nerve-process,  considered  in 
its  most  general  form  as  irritability,  is  everywhere  con- 
scious. On  this  view,  each  nervous  center,  each  so-called 
arc,  has  its  own  consciousness,  and  the  ordinary  conscious- 
ness of  the  individual  is  only  the  outcome  of  many  lower 
consciousnesses  that  we  all  possess.  The  brain-conscious- 
ness is  the  only  one  we  are  conscious  of,  so  to  speak  ;  but 
there  is  consciousness  in  the  spinal  cord  and  in  ganglia 
wherever  we  find  them.  The  other  theory,  or  class  of 
theories,  holds  that  a  given  degree  of  development  is 
necessary  before  consciousness  is  found  at  all.  In  the 
development  of  the  system,  therefore,  consciousness 
appears  only  at  a  certain  stage  of  integration  or  "  upw^ard 
growth."  This  theory  is  generally  accepted,  though  for 
purposes  of  division  rather  than  from  positive  argument. 
In  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  is  impossible  to  disprove  con- 
sciousness in  lower  centers. 

It  also  seems  true  that  our  personal  consciousness  repre- 
sents a  condition  of  slow,  difficult,  and  impeded — conse- 
quently of  highly  developed  and  well  balanced — integra- 
tion.    The  smoothest  reflexes  are  not  conscious  ;  the  hard- 

1  See  Science,  May  2,  1890. 

*Hekl  also  by  Bain  {Emotions  and  Will,  Appendix  A),  and  in  a 
inodKk'd  form  by  Wundt. 


ITS  CONDITIOXS.  63 

fought  decisions  are  most  conscious.  It  seems  likely, 
therefore,  that  some  degree  of  inhibition  is  necessary  in  the 
nervous  basis — at  any  rate  for  vivid  consciousness. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  considerations  which  are 
giving  more  prominence  to  the  view  of  Mr.  Lewes  at  pres- 
ent. They  tend  to  show  that  our  distinctions  are  arbitrar^'^, 
and  open  the  door  at  least  for  presumptive  evidence  that 
consciousness  is  coextensive  with  nervous  reactions. 
Among  these  considerations  are  recent  proofs  of  so- 
called  multiple  personalities  which  may  be  induced  in 
the  same  nervous  organism  in  the  hypnotic  state.*  The 
explanation  is  at  least  a  tempting  one,  that,  the  higher 
centers  being  inhibited,  their  conscious  content  is  wanting, 
and  the  lower  centers  supply  experience  which  was  before 
outside  the  conscious  area.  Again,  in  the  scale  of  animal 
organisms,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  a  line  denoting  the  point 
of  nervous  complexity  below  which  there  is  no  conscious- 
ness. The  fact  of  a  possible  substitution  of  function  be- 
tween the  brain  and  spinal  ganglia  spoken  of  above,  would 
indicate  a  possible  common  element  of  consciousness. 

Particular  Conditions.  A  further  question  arises  as  to 
the  immediate  conditions  of  consciousness  in  the  nervous 
centers.  Given  a  nervous  organism  capable  of  conscious- 
ness, on  what  particular  state  or  aspect  of  it  does  the  con- 
tinuous presence  of  consciousness  depend  ?  Here,  again, 
recent  views  are  little  more  than  guesses.  The  view 
supported  by  Herzen  seems  to  have  most  evidence,  i.  e., 
that  consciousness  arises  from  the  breaking  down  or  ex- 
penditure of  tlie  cellular  structure  in  the  centers.  This 
is  concluded  from  the  fact  that  the  attention,  a  state  of 
concentration  and  expenditure,  is  the  state  of  most  vivid 
consciousness  ;  that  consciousness  is  most  vague  and  indis- 
tinct wlien  no  brain-work  is  being  done,  as  in  cases  of 
dolcefar  niente  or  diffused  attention  ;  that  unconsciousness 
is  most  nearly  reached  in  sleep  and  analogous  states  when 
'  Pierre  Janet,  A"f"i/o/fisiue  Psychologique. 


64    .,  CONSCIOUSJVESS. 

the  brain  processes  have  largely  subsided  from  the  lack 
of  sensory  stimuli  or  motor  impulses.  The  chemical  re- 
sults of  active  thought,  increased  heat,  and  organic  waste 
deposits  in  the  brain  would  indicate  chemical  work  and 
disintegration. 

It  is  also  true  tliat  consciousness  depends  upon  the  nor- 
mal condition  of  the  mechanism  as  a  whole.  Any  failure 
in  the  blood  supply  (anaemia)  leads  to  faintness  and  faint- 
ing, and  the  same  result  often  follow^s  from  congestion  of 
blood  in  the  brain  (hyperaemia).  In  general  we  may  say 
that  the  healthful  activity  of  the  brain,  in  its  normal 
physiological  relations,  gives  clear  consciousness.  It  should 
be  borne  in  mind,  also,  that  all  hypotheses  as  to  the  condi- 
tions in  which  it  arises  shed  no  light  on  w^hat  conscious- 
ness is.     On  this  point  even  the  biologist  Schneider  is  clear. 

§  5.  Sentience  and  Sensibility. 

It  has  become  apparent  that  nervous  activity,  considered 
for  itself  alone,  does  not  bring  us  into  the  range  of  psj^cho- 
logical  science.  However  we  may  decide  the  inquiry  as 
to  whether  such  activity  is  ever  entirely  free  from  con- 
sciousness, it  is  yet  true  that  it  may  be  quite  outside  of  what 
is  called  the  individual's  consciousness.  IVie  man  is  not 
conscious  after  the  guillotine  has  done  its  work,  however 
active  the  nervous  reflexes  of  his  limbs  may  be,  and  how- 
ever firmly  wc  may  believe  that  his  spinal  ganglia  have  an 
"  inner  aspect."  In  other  words,  the  greater  part  of  our 
ordinary  nervous  reactions  are  not  above  the  threshold  of 
our  conscious  lives.  So  we  reach  a  distinction  between 
sentience  as  a  nervous  property  and  sentience  as  a  con- 
scious phenomenon,  between  sentience  and  sensibility.^ 
Sensibility  is  synonymous  with  the  usual  consciousness  of 

'  Lewes  uses  the  two  terms  io  senses  precisely  the  reverse  of  this, 
Physiml  Basis  of  iUnd,  p.  323 ;  i.  e.,  to  him  sensibility  is  the  ner- 
vous property  everywhere  ;  so  also  Sergi,  PsycJiologie  PhysioUh 
(jiquc,  p.  13. 


KFXnS  OF  COJYSCIOUSWESS.  65 

the  individual's  experience,  and  sentience  is  tlie  nervous 
function  which,  as  far  as  we  know,  may  yet  be  accompanied 
by  consciousness  or  inner  aspect  in  general. 

For  a  working  test  of  the  limits  of  sensibility  we  may 
say  that  there  is  no  sensibility  (1)  where  there  is  no  brain  ; 
(2)  where  there  is  no  trace  left  in  memory  ;  (3)  whore 
there  is  no  expressive  or  adaptive  motor  reaction.  Yet  in 
all  of  tliesy  cases  sentience  ma}^  be  present,  as  the  sensitive 
plant  seems  clearly  to  show. 

The  transition  from  simple  sentience  to  the  full  con- 
sciousness  is  through  subconscious  modifications.  On  the 
side  of  the  nervous  system  they  indicate  a  stimulus  and  reac- 
tion too  faint  to  reach  into  the  sensibility.  Yet  they  in- 
fluence the  conscious  life  and  give  it  direction  and  inten- 
sity ;  a  fact  seen  again  on  the  physical  side  under  the 
principle  of  summation  of  stimuli. 

§  6.  Kinds  of  Consciousxess  as  Dependent  on 
Xervous  Complexity. 

1.  Passive  Consciousness.  Subconscious  sensibility 
tends  to  secure  recognition  in  the  mental  life  as  what  is 
called  jyassive  consciousness,  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
active  forms  which  involve  more  or  less  attention.  The 
writer  often  finds  that  he  can  start  counting  the  strokes  of 
a  clock  after  the  clock  has  struck  several  times,  naming 
the  correct  number  of  each  stroke  to  the  end,  although  he 
was  not  aware  of  the  strokes  before  he  began  to  count. 
This  illustrates  the  subconscious.  In  most  cases  passive 
consciousness  is,  by  its  very  nature,  undetected,  and  it  ex- 
ists as  a  normal  state  apart  from  active  consciousness  only 
in  lower  forms  of  organic  life  or  in  very  young  children. 
In  adult  life  we  catch  it  most  nearly  when  just  beginning 
to  recover  from  a  swoon  ;  the  sounds  around  us  are  heard, 
but  have  no  meaning,  relation,  or  escort.  Of  this  state 
abstracted  from  the  condition  of  our  usual  self-conscious- 
pess,  we  may  make  the  following  remarks  :   1.  It  is  a  state 


QQ  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

of  pure  sensibilit}^  or  simple  awareness.  2.  It  carries  no 
reference  to  an  external  object  or  to  the  body,  that  is,  no 
such  reference  inside  the  inner  aspect.  3.  It  has  no  refer- 
ence to  self  as  an  object  of  inner  apprehension,  no  volun- 
tary effort  known  as  "  my  effort."  4.  It  has  no  relational 
or  apperceptive  quality.  It  is  not  knowledge,  but  pure 
feeling.  It  is  the  hypothetical  affective  state  in  all  its 
purity. 

The  possibility  of  turning  attention  to  a  dim  presenta- 
tion and  making  it  vivid,  shows  that  the  cerebral  basis  of 
these  lower  forms  of  human  consciousness  is  not  one  of 
separateness  from  the  highest  centers,  but  of  community 
with  them  ;  indeed  a  nervous  discharge  already  in  volun- 
tary operation  may  be  diverted  into  a  subconscious  reac- 
tion without  the  attention.  The  physiological  basis  of 
passive  consciousness,  then,  is  a  state  of  temporary  loss  of 
tension  in  a  brain-area  which  shares  in  the  highest  integra- 
tion and  instability. 

2.  Reactive  Consciousness.  By  reactive  consciousness 
is  meant  tlie  state  commonly  designated  as  involuntary 
attention.  In  passive  consciousness  only  the  reception  of 
stimuli  is  a  matter  of  sensibility  ;  here  consciousness  seems 
to  attach  also  to  the  responsive  member  of  the  nervous  arc. 
There  is  as  truly  a  reaction  in  consciousness  as  there  is 
in  the  nervous  system.  We  may  accordingly  analyze  this 
form  of  consciousness  for  purposes  of  treatment  into  three 
elements,  corresponding  to  the  three  elements  of  the  nerv- 
ous arc.  First,  the  receiving  consciousness,  the  stimulus — 
say  a  loud,  unexpected  sound  ;  second,  the  attention  invol- 
untarily drawn,  the  registering  element,  as  appears  below  ; 
and  third,  the  muscular  reaction  following  upon  the  sound 
— say  flight  from  fancied  danger.  The  analogy,  accord- 
ingly, between  the  typical  brain  process  and  the  typical 
mental  process  finds  here  its  most  general  force  and  de- 
mands the  most  careful  treatment.  Questions  of  the  most 
radical  philosophical  importance  begin  here, 


REACTIVE  CONSCIOUSNESS.  67 

Characteristics  of  the  Reactive  Consciousness.  In  gen- 
eral, this  form  of  consciousness  is  distinguished  by  a  feel- 
ing of  expenditure.  Attention  alwaj^s  means  expenditure 
even  when  quite  invohmtary.  Any  further  designation 
would  onl}^  becloud  a  sensation  which  everyone  can  point 
out  clearly  enough  in  his  own  experience — the  sense  of 
being  caught  and  carried  away  mentally. 

Again,  the  reactive  consciousness  has  an  additional  ele- 
ment which  we  call  the  sensation  oi  fatifjue.^  This  sensa- 
tion is  distinct  from  that  of  expenditure,  and  arises  only 
after  prolonged  attention  or  in  conditions  of  antecedent 
nervous  exhaustion.  As  to  what  this  feeling  is,  again  no 
further  descrij^tion  is  necessary  now. 

Moreover,  on  the  muscular  side  we  find  two  different 
classes  of  effects  :  the  reactive  effects  peculiar  to  the  par- 
ticular stimulus,  and  besides  these  the  peculiar  muscular 
accompaniments  of  attention  itself.  The  latter  are  con- 
stant, and  the  former  vary  with  the  stimulus.  For  ex- 
ample, a  student  hears  his  name  called  suddenly  and 
loudly.  The  particular  reaction  habitual  to  such  a  stimulus 
is  a  speech  reaction — the  response.  Hullo  !  or  Yes  !  But, 
before  speaking,  he  finds  he  has  turned  his  attention — 
probably  his  head — to  the  source  of  the  sound,  and  by  so 
doing  has  brought  into  play  a  different  set  of  nerves  and 
muscles.  Now,  of  these  two  reactions  it  is  the  speech- 
reaction  which  answers  in  consciousness  to  the  motor  side 
of  the  nervous  arc,  stimulated  by  the  sound,  and  it  is  only 
this  that  we  can  say  follows  the  attention  without  finding 
ourselves  on  debatable  ground.  The  attentive  movements 
seem  to  belong  peculiarly  to  the  attention  itself,  and  so  fall 
under  the  central  element  in  the  typical  reaction. 

Consequently,  in  the  motor  phenomena  of  the  reactive 

consciousness,  there  are  two  very  distinct  elements  which 

subsequent  discussion  must  not  confuse  :  the  motor  effects 

of  the  stimulus  which  is  attended  to,  and  the  motor  accoiij- 

'  piscussed  below,  cliaj).  xxiii.  §  4, 


68 


CONSCIOUSNESS. 


paiiiraents  of  the  attention  itself.  This  may  be  seen  in 
Fig.  14,  in  which  a  new^  element  (cc  =  co-ordinating 
center)  is  added  as  the  central  process  of  attention.  A  new 
motor  process  {mp')  is  stimulated,  and  this  produces  new- 
muscular  movements  {mt').  The  ordinary  reaction  also 
takes  place  (mp,  mt  ;  in  this  case,  speech)  following  from 
the   ordinary  stimulus  (sp ;    in    this  case,  sound).       The 


>  w/j 


Fig.  14. 


Fig.  15. 


sp,  mp,  mt  =  Motor  reaction. 

sp,  cc,  mj/,  mt'  =  Motor  accompaniments  of  the  attention. 

matter  is  again  simplified  in  the  "  motor  square  "  diagram. 
Fig.  15. 

3.  Voluntary  Consciousness.  Voluntary  consciousness 
may  be  characterized  b}^  several  new  affective  elements — 
new  modifications  of  sensibility.  Without  anticipating 
later  analysis,  we  may  say  that  it  exhibits,  first,  deliberation. 
By  this  is  meant,  in  general,  a  doubleness  of  sensibility,  a 
consciousness  of  being  drawn  apart,  or  of  inward  conflict — 
to  limit  the  case  to  the  feeling  aspect,  apart  from  the  play 
of  ideas  involved.  This  feeling  of  deliberation  leads  on 
to  another  element  of  sensibility,  namely,  the  feeling  of 
'  Cf.  Fii?s.  11  and  12,  above. 


VOLXTNTARY  COXSCIOU^^XESS.  60 

decision  or  consent ;  in  wliicli  the  doubleness  spoken  of  is 
resolved  in  a  pleasant  unity  of  consciousness  again.  And 
further,  we  find  another  possible  element,  apparently  distinct 
from  the  preceding,  the  feeling  of  effort.  In  this  sensation 
there  is  an  active  identification  of  ourselves  with  the  reac- 
tion decided  upon  ;  a  conscious  putting  forth  of  ourselves 
to  reinforce  our  decision.  An^^  analysis  of  volition  must, 
at  least,  take  account  of  these  three  distinguishable  aspects 
of  sensibilit3\^ 

Xow  it  is  in  the  selective  and  inhibitive  functions  of  the 
nervous  system  that  the  physical  basis  of  the  voluntary 
consciousness  is  to  be  found.  As  far  as  such  selection  and 
inhibition  are  conscious  at  all,  they  have  probably  the 
nervous  essentials  of  volition.  Of  the  three  sensible  ele- 
ments involved,  the  first  and  second  have  clear  physiologi- 
cal analogies.  Deliberation  in  consciousness  is  analogous 
to  dynamic  complexity  and  instability  in  the  brain-centers  ; 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  temporary  balance  in  the  nervous 
S3^stem,  and  it  suggests  itself  at  once  as  the  physical  counter- 
2)art  of  mental  hesitation.  Inhibition  also,  as  far  as  our 
physiological  knowledge  goes,  seems  to  have  full  conscious 
value  here.  Decision,  as  following  upon  deliberation,  is 
again  analogous  to  the  state  of  central  readiness  for  the 
discharge  of  nervous  force,  when  the  equilibrium  is  destroyed 
and  the  motor  outburst  only  waits  for  the  requisite  stimulus 
to  take  its  outward  course. 

With  effort,  however,  the  case  is  on  the  surface  different. 
There  is  no  evident  nervous  function  corresponding  to  this 
state  of  sensibility  ;  that  is,  no  function  not  already  sup- 
plied with  its  conscious  analog3^  The  question  of  such  an 
analogy  or  ph^^sical  basis  of  effort,  therefore,  comes  finally 
to  wait  upon  ^  more  thoroughgoing  mental  analysis  of  this 
sensation.  If  effort  be  reduced  to  expenditure,  and  expendi- 
ture to  incoming  sensations  from  the  muscles,  then  there  is 

^  For  detailed  consideration  of  these  three  features  of  voluntary  con- 
sciousness, see  below,  chap,  xxvi,  and  xxvii.  §  1. 


10  C0NSGl0TfSmS8. 

no  need  for  such  an  analogy  ;  but  if  effort  resist  further 
anal}^sis,  then  physiology  is  as  yet  at  fault. 

Fundamental  Properties  of  Consciousness.  The  gen- 
eral fact  is  evident,  in  view  of  all  that  has  been  said, 
that  different  events  in  consciousness  are  of  different 
value,  come  in  with  a  different  introduction,  have  different 
qualities  wliich  mark  each  as  itself  and  not  another  ;  in 
short,  that  consciousness  has  a  fundamental  property  of 
discrhnination :  and  further,  it  is  clear  that  under  these 
differences  in  its  events  consciousuess  acts  differentl}^ 
courting  some  changes  and  avoiding  others,  reacting  so 
on  one  stimulus  and  thus  on  another — the  further  funda- 
mental property  of  selection.  We  have  found,  also,  that 
consciousness  has  degrees  of  excitement,^  intensity,  coloring, 
of  its  own  according  as  this  event  happens  in  it  or  that. 
These  properties  are  evidently  tl)e  basis  of  the  threefold 
division  of  conscious  states  already  pointed  out :  Intellect 
(discrimination),  feeling  (degree  of  excitement)  and  will 
(selection). 

§  7.  The  Nervous  System  and  the  Unity  of 
Consciousness. 

The  functional  unity  of  the  nervous  system  has  already 
received  sufficient  emphasis.  The  conception  advocated  in 
the  preceding  pages  is  a  dynamic  conception.  The  parts 
of  the  system  have  meaning  only  as  they  are  related  to 
each  other  in  a  system  whose  activity  as  a  whole  gives 
value  to  the  activity  of  the  parts  in  the  general  life-process. 
We  have  not  many  nervous  systems,  but  one  ;  the  laws  of 
its  growth  are  not  many,  but  one  ;  its  function  is  one,  its 
teleological  end  is  one. 

So  consciousness  has  not  many  forms,  pfssive,  reactive, 
sensory,  motor,  voluntary,  inhibitive.  These  are  all  partial 
aspects  of  a  single  unitary  presence.     There  is  no  sensor 

'  On  the  relation  of  this  property  to  pleasure  and  pain,  see  chap.  xvi. 


nNlTT  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  Tl 

plienomenon  but  lias  its  dj^namic  or  reactive  side.  There 
is  no  motor  phenomenon  in  consciousness,  but  it  springs 
from  antecedents  of  sensibility.  There  is  no  voluntary 
phenomenon,  but  it  rests  on  both.  Consciousness,  there- 
fore, is  one  as  the  nervous  process  is  one.* 

'  See  a  statement  and  criticism  of  the  theory  which  accounts  for 
mental  unity  by  the  organic  unity  of  the  nervous  system,  in  my 
Handbook  of  Psychology ,  vol,  ii.  chap.  ii.  §  6. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ATTENTION.! 
§  1.  Definition  of  Attention. 

In  the  consideration  of  consciousness,  a  difference  was 
found  in  its  general  aspect  according  as  a  number  of  pres- 
entations were  loosely  scattered  about  its  field  or  as  some 
one  held  the  mind  directed  to  itself.  Consciousness  is  thus 
passive  or  active.  Active  consciousness  is  in  general  atten- 
tion. It  is  the  focusing  of  the  mind  upon  a  presenta- 
tion. It  is  in  all  cases  a  conscious  act.  What  goes  on  in 
the  relating  of  this  presentation  to  others,  in  their  combi- 
nation, dissolution,  arrangement,  is  due  to  the  activity  of 
apperception,  which  is,  in  a  large  measure,  subconscious  ; 
but  the  attention  which  makes  the  activity  of  appei-ception 
possible  is  a  matter  of  immediate  consciousness. 

Reflex  or  Involuntary  Attention.^  Upon  observation 
of  ourselves,  we  find  that  attention  may  be  stimulated 
either  from  some  foreign  and  unexpected  source  or  from 
the  will.  A  loud  noise,  a  violent  contact,  a  disagreeable 
odor,  at  once  attract  the  attention  without  our  volition  or 
even  against  it.  This  is  reflex  or  involuntary  attention. 
In  the  normal  state  of  the  consciousness,  attention  is  con- 
stantly open  to  appeals  of  this  kind.  Minds  with  little 
power  of  will  live  under  control  of  such  external  excita- 
tion. The  attention  is  drawn  hither  and  thither  in  rapid 
transition  with  no  fixed  concentration  upon  any  sensation 
or  idea.  In  such  minds,  as  we  shall  see  later,  the  functions 
of    apperception  are  disturbed,  and  its  products  instable. 

^  Handbook,  vol.  1.  chap.  v. 

'•^  On  involuntary  attention  considered  as  reactive  consciousness,  see 
above,  chap.  v.  §  6. 

73 


REFLEX  ATTENTION.  ^3 

This  state  of  inability  to  liokl  tlie  attention  against  otlier 
solicitations  is  called  distraction  :  the  attention  is,  as  it 
were,  drawn  apart  in  its  efforts  at  adaptation  to  different 
conditions. 

A  case  of  what  may  be  called  chronic  involuntary  atten- 
tion is  found  in  the  insistent  idea.  It  very  frequently 
occurs  in  normal  life  that  a  single  idea,  either  by  reason  of 
a  strong  association  or  of  a  feeling,  or  because  of  previous 
attention,  or  even  in  consequence  of  the  very  effort  of  the 
will  to  banish  it  from  consciousness,  remains  before  the 
mind  and  holds  the  attention.  This  is  called  an  insistent 
or,  in  its  more  intense  forms,  fixed  idea.  It  is  generally 
removed  by  a  change  of  scene,  companions,  and  surround- 
ings, the  old  association  being  broken  or  new  ideas  claiming 
the  attention.  As  an  idea  becomes  fixed  or  imperative,  it 
gathers  round  it  other  ideas  in  growing  associations  and 
connections,  which  soon  give  a  morbid  tone  to  the  entire 
mental  life.  This  is  the  beginning  frequently  of  mono- 
manias and  permanent  delusions,'  which  become  chronic  in 
insanity.  Frequently  also,  it  is  supposed,  the  primary 
tendency  to  some  form  of  nerve  disturbance  or  brain  dis- 
ease, due  to  heredity,  gives  occasion  and  strength  to  such 
derangement.^ 

The  mechanical  nature  of  involuntary  attention  and 
its  intimate  relation  to  all  phj^sical  and  mental  states  is 
seen  in  the  acts  of  a  patient  in  a  state  of  hypnotic  hallucina- 
tion. Here  it  seems  that  the  element  of  will  is  entirelj^ 
eliminated.  The  patient  has  apparently  no  control  over 
either  body  or  mind,  and  many  suggestions  either  physi- 
cal or  mental  from  the  hypnotizer  are  immediately  realized 
in  action.  It  seems  only  necessary'-  that  the  attention 
should  be  secured,  to  start  the  entire  train  of  apperceptive 
processes  Avith  the  physical  changes  which  are  associated 

'  See  case  described  by  Cowles,  Amer.  Jour,  of  Psycli.,  February, 
1888. 
'  See  further  statement  below,  chap.  xiv. 


74  ATTENTION. 

with  them  ;  or  a  physical  attitude  or  movement  may  be 
forced  upon  the  patient,  only  to  be  followed  by  all  the 
emotional  and  intellectual  states  it  suggests.  In  these 
states  the  intellectual  life  seems  quite  normal  and  the  emo- 
tions are  very  excitable  and  facile  in  their  play  ;  but  all  in- 
ner control  is  lost.  Action  results  with  complete  necessity. 
The  important  fact  in  this  form  of  hypnotism  then  seems 
to  be  the  fixing  of  an  idea  till  it  becomes  imperative,  with 
the  general  subjective  state  unchanged  by  the  substitution 
of  ideas  which  it  brings  about. 

Voluntary  Attention.^  In  strong  opposition  to  this  is 
voluntary  attention  or  attention  proper.  It  may  be  de- 
iined  as  a  state  of  active  co7isciousness  due  to  voluntary 
inental  exertion  or  effort.  Here  a  distinctly  new  element 
enters  into  consciousness,  mental  effort.  In  voluntary  at- 
tention we  find  the  first  exhibition  of  will.  It  is  the  be- 
ginning of  all  control  over  the  mental  life.  A  thousand 
things  may  appeal  to  me  for  consideration  and  I  may  re- 
fuse them  my  attention.  I  may  give  myself  to  a  train  of 
thought  and  be  substantially  unconscious  of  sounds,  sights, 
contacts  which  would  ordinarily  excite  my  attention.  It 
is  thus  in  the  familiar  condition  of  abstraction  or  ahsent- 
mindedness.  This  peculiar  outgoing  of  the  self  is  the 
something  we  call  consent,  in  the  mental  life.  From  it 
we  largely  arrive  at  consciousness  of  self,  by  a  reference  of 
what  we  do,  to  ourselves  as  doing  it. 

The  frequent  or  prolonged  exercise  of  attention  to  the 
same  presentation  or  idea  tends  to  bring  It  involuntarily 
before  the  mind.  Its  repetition  in  varied  circumstances 
establishes  various  associations  by  which  it  may  be  revived. 
Insistent  and  fixed  ideas  usually  become  so  from  volun- 
tary thought  upon  them — from  what  we  call  "brood- 
ing "  over  a  subject.  Thus  the  line  between  reflex  and 
voluntary  attention  is  changed  and  much  that  was  before 
a  matter  of  choice  becomes  automatic  and  necessary. 
'  See  also  the  discussion  below,  chap,  xxvii. 


BEAmXGS  OF  ATTEXTIOX  75 

§  2.  Bearings  of  Attention  in  the  Mental  Life. 

In  its  relation  to  the  great  classes  of  mental  facts,  the  at- 
tention is  of  the  first  importance.  In  general  it  may  l)e 
said  that  attentw?i  intensifies  a  me?ital  state.  It  may  be 
considered  more  particularly  and  in  detail. 

I.  Relation  of  Attention  to  Sensation.  There  is  a 
twofold  or  reactive  relation  between  attention  and  sensa- 
tion. On  the  one  hand,  increased  hitensity  of  sensation 
draios  the  attention.  The  change  in  intensity  of  the  sensa- 
tion is  a  direct  stimulus  to  the  attention,  and  the  attention 
in  this  case  is  reflex.  On  the  other  hand,  attention  directed 
to  a  se)isatio?i  increases  its  intensity.  We  have  already 
seen  that  many  sensations  may  lie  in  consciousness  almost 
unfelt,  while  the  attention  is  otherwise  occupied.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  direct  the  attention  to  them  to  give  them 
their  full  force.  But  more  than  this,  the  attention  may 
give  them  increased  and  very  acute  intensity.  By  fixing 
the  attention  upon  bruises  and  burns,  we  increase  the  pain 
they  give  us.  Hence  the  efforts  we  make  to  divert  a  sick 
man's  attention  from  the  seat  of  his  disease,  hy  fixing  his 
attention  on  some  new  artificial  sensation,  or  by  interest- 
ing him  in  another  topic  of  conversation.  Hot  cloths 
relieve  headache,  by  producing  a  counter-irritation.  This 
effect  of  the  attention  is  especially  great  in  nervous  dis- 
eases. Paralj^sis  has  been  cured  or  driven  from  limb  to 
limb  in  hj^pnotic  patients  by  a  mere  suggestion,  which  so 
completely  occupied  the  attention  as  to  induce  belief  in  the 
effect.  So  insomnia  and  sometimes  dyspepsia  and  other 
diseases  xn^j  be  cured. 

Attention  has  an  influence  also  upon  the  time  occupied 
by  a  sensation.  Experiments  show  tliat  a  certain  time  is 
necessary  for  tlie  feeling  of  an  excitation  from  any  of  the 
sense  organs  and  the  reaction  in  the  movement  of  the  organ. 
This  time  is  greatly  reduced  when  the  excitation  is  expected.' 

^  For  details,  see  section  on  Psychometry,  chap.  viii.  §  7. 


76  ATTENTION. 

A  certain  time  seems  to  be  necessary  for  the  adjustment  of 
the  attention  to  the  nature  and  source  of  tiie  stimuhis,  and 
this  is  reduced  wlien  tlie  idea  is  j^resent  beforehand  and 
the  attention  is  already  partially  adjusted. 

II.  Relation  of  Attention  to  Movement.  The  move- 
ment of  the  members  of  the  body  is  very  closely  con- 
nected with  corresponding  ideas.  No  voluntary  movement 
takes  place  without  its  idea  in  the  mind  :  and  often  the 
idea  produces  the  movement  without  any  voluntary  im- 
pulse or  even  contrary  to  it.'  The  imitative  faculty  of 
children  shows  this  tendency  to  carry  out  all  movements 
thought  of.  We  often  find  ourselves  following  the  move- 
ments of  the  hands  or  lips  of  a  speaker  with  slight  move- 
ments of  our  own.  It  is  probable  that  no  word  comes  into 
tlie  mind  without  its  partial  formation  by  the  vocal  organs, 
as  is  seen  in  the  movements  of  the  lips  b}^  many  in  reading 
to  themselves  and  in  our  thinking  aloud.  No  doubt  the 
pliysical  association  involved  plays  a  great  role  in  all  such 
cases.  The  thought  of  a  movement  has  preceded  and  led 
to  the  movement  so  often,  that  there  is  a  positive  tendency, 
at  the  nervous  centers,  to  the  discharge  of  the  energy 
necessary  to  the  accomplisliment  of  the  act,  along  the 
proper  courses.  An  interesting  illustration  has  recently 
come  to  light  in  the  cases  of  loss  of  the  power  of  speech 
simply  from  brain  injury  in  the  centers  for  writing  the 
words. 

This  tendency  to  movement  is  greatly  increased  by  the 
exercise  of  attention.  The  attention  tends  to  bring  the 
idea  more  distinctly  before  the  mind  and  thus  removes  all 
competing  ideas  which  should  incite  to  different  move- 
ments. This  is  especially  the  case  when  the  attention 
dwells  upon  the  organ  or  on  the  thought  of  movement. 
There  is  then   a  twofold  effect  due  to  the  attention.     It 

^  Fere  claims  that  every  sensory  excitation  at  first  induces  an  aug- 
mentation of  motive  force  which  is  measurable  on  the  dynamometer  : 
see  law  of  "  mental  dj^namogenesis  "  below,  chap,  xxiii.  §  1. 


ATTENTIOX  AXD  MOVEMEyr.  11 

tends  to  develop  latent  sensations,  as  we  saw  above,  in 
the  organ,  and  these  sensations  lead  to  movement  for  their 
relief  or  continuance  ;  or  it  produces  movement  by  the 
distinct  purpose  to  perfonn  an  act  thought  of.  For 
example,  if  the  picture  is  vividh^  presented  of  a  workman 
who  has  his  thumb  crushed  by  a  hammer,  we  make  instinc- 
tive movements  to  protect  the  thumbs,  b}"  folding  them  in 
the  hands. 

The  facts  of  hypnotic  suggestion  already  spoken  of 
show  the  automatic  connection  between  an  idea  strongly 
attended  to  and  its  physical  performance.  The  absence  of 
will  does  not  interfere  with  the  performance  of  the  action, 
but  only  with  the  power  to  prevent  or  direct  it.  The  con- 
sciousness is  so  contracted  in  this  state  that  each  idea  in 
turn  is  held  in  the  focus  of  attention. 

III.  Relation  of  Attention  to  the  Intellect.  Attention, 
either  voluntary  or  reflex,  is  directly  involved  in  the  opera- 
tions of  the  intellectual  function.  In  general,  it  may  be 
said  that  attention  increases  the  vividness  of  presentative 
states  and  thus  renders  more  definite  and  lasting  the  apper- 
ceptive activities  of  synthesis,  aualj'sis,  relation,  as  seen 
in  niemor}^,  association,  judgment,  and  reasoning.  It  is 
necessary,  first,  to  tlie  retention  of  images.  The  capacity 
to  retain  mental  pictures  depends  upon  the  intensity  of  the 
original  presentation,  and  the  clearness  of  its  relations  ; 
and  this  intensity  and  clearness  are  enhanced  by  the  atten- 
tion. The  supply  of  materials  which  we  have  for  use  in 
the  higher  forms  of  thought  depends  at  once  upon  our 
attentiveness  to  what  passes  before  us  in  our  everyday 
life.  When  we  w ish  to  retain  any  event,  we  press  it  upon 
the  attention  and  note  its  surroundings.  Second,  attention 
increases  the  intensity  of  the  reproduced  image  in  the  same 
way.  If  w^e  recall  the  face  of  a  friend,  it  is,  at  first,  dim  and 
indistinct,  but  by  holding  it  closely  before  us  and  scrutiniz- 
ing it,  we  can  bring  it  clearly  out  in  more  detail.  Tlie 
attention   shifts   rapidly   from   point   to   point    upon   the 


78  ATTENTION. 

image.  Third,  the  duration  or  time  of  all  mental  states,  as 
of  simple  sensation,  is  made  shorter  by  attention,  as  is  seen 
in  experiments  on  the  association  of  ideas  and  estimation 
of  differences. 

IV.  Relation  of  Attention  to  Peeling.  Attention  lias 
the  same  intensifying  influence  upon  the  affective  states 
in  general  as  upon  sensation.  Emotion  is  heightened  when 
the  attention  is  directed  to  it.  Hope,  joy,  fear,  anger,  grow 
very  greatly  in  intensity  when  thought  of,  and  as  quickly 
die  down  when  dismissed  from  the  attention.  With  tlie 
higher  emotions  it  is  very  difficult  to  control  tlie  attention, 
so  tlioroughly  do  they  usurp  the  field  of  consciousness.  So, 
also,  pleasure  and  pain,  called  the  hedonic  tone  of  feeling, 
are  increased  by  being  attended  to  and  diminished  when 
the  attention  is  withdrawn. 

The  especial  relation  existing  between  the  attention  and 
the  feeling  of  interest^  has  often  been  remarked  by  psychol- 
ogists. This  feeling  of  interest  is  often  akin  to  that  of 
personal  advantage  or  individual  preference,  which  we  find 
playing  an  important  part  in  the  flow  of  our  associated 
ideas.  It  gives  a  spontaneousness  and  ease  to  the  attention 
which  renders  the  latter  more  effective  and  less  wearisome 
to  the  inner  life.  Attention  to  that  whicli  interests  us  does 
not  demand  the  same  outgo  of  mental  effort. 

V.  Relation  of  Attention  to  the  Bodily  Functions. 
Attention  long  directed  tends  to  derange  the  automatic 
functions  of  the  body.  The  automatic  functions  are  those 
which  go  on  unconsciously  to  ourselves.  The  action  of 
the  heart  is  accelerated  by  being  closely  attended  to. 
The  digestive  apparatus  may  be  deranged  by  being 
watched,  and  so  also  may  the  breatliing  process.  Atten- 
tion is  also  accompanied  by  certain  attitudes  of  the  body, 
such  as  turning  the  head  or  eye  in  a  given  direction,  bend- 
ing forward,  frowning,  and  other  muscular  contractions. 
A  feeling  of  tension  is  felt  also  in  the  end  organ.     This 

*Se^  discussion  of  "Interest,"  below,  chap.  xix.  ^1. 


ATTENTION  IN  EDUCATION.  79 

tends  to  show  that  it  is  the  motor  elements  of  the  brain 
which  are  involved  in  attention,  while  the  effect  it  works 
upon  sensation  shows  a  sensory  modification  following 
upon  the  other. 

§  3.  Educational  Bearings  of  the  Doctrine  of 
Attention/ 

Training  of  the  Attention.  The  considerations  already 
advanced  tend  to  show  the  importance  of  the  attention 
in  education.  The  secret  of  the  case  rests  upon  making 
attention  completely  voluntary.  Strength  of  thought 
depends  very  largely  upon  the  voluntary  control  or 
concentration  of  attention,  in  such  a  way  as  to  prevent 
distraction  from  accidental  and  unexpected  influences. 
This  training  of  the  attention  should  begin  at  the  earliest 
possible  period.  The  child  should  be  taught  to  observe 
continuously  some  thing  that  interests  him,  and  encour- 
aged to  ask  questions  about  objects  and  their  relations. 
In  very  early  life  these  things  should  be  left  to  his  own 
selection,  until  the  laws  of  apperceptive  synthesis  are 
developed,  that  is,  until  he  learns  somewhat  to  connect 
things  and  events  and  see  their  bearings.  Otherwise  the 
forcing  of  the  will  may  interfere  with  the  development  of 
the  emotions,  which  are  then  the  controlling  factor.  But 
as  soon  as  practicable,  the  teacher  should  attract  and  hold 
the  child's  attention,  at  first  to  pleasant  things  and  after- 
ward to  indifferent  things.  Great  care  should  be  exercised 
in  the  general  surroundings.  All  distractions,  such  as 
open  windows,  pet  animals,  pla3^things,  should  be  guarded 
against  :  they  practically  call  upon  the  child  to  attend  to 
several  things  at  once.  Care  should  be  taken  also  not  to 
fatigue  the  attention.  The  periods  of  study  had  better  be 
too  short  than  too  long  ;  for  if  the  child  growls  tired,  the 
effort  becomes  painful  and  the  subject  distasteful.  Fre- 
quent recesses  should  be  given  and  recitations  should  not 
'See  also  Sully,  Outlines  of  PsycJtology,  p.  103. 


80  ATTENTION. 

be  longer  than  fifteen  to  twenty  mimites,  for  children 
under  twelve  to  fourteen  j^ears  of  age.  The  child's  inter- 
est should  never  be  allowed  to  flag. 

Habits  of  Attention.  In  this  way  regular  habits  of  at- 
tention may  be  formed  very  early,  which  have  the  same 
force  in  life  as  all  other  habits.  Attention  tlius  becomes 
application^  which  is  voluntary  and  agreeable  :  and  with 
this  basis  the  student  has  no  trouble  in  devoting  himself 
to  subjects  of  thought  for  longer  periods. 

A  caution  is  perhaj^s  in  order,  as  to  sameness  in  the 
kinds  of  instruction  given  in  early  life.  It  is  not  Avell 
that  the  same  general  cast  of  thought  should  engage  too 
much  of  the  early  attention  of  the  student.  It  gives  a 
bent  to  all  his  subsequent  development.  John  Stuart  Mill 
is  a  good  example  of  this.  It  is  especially  dangerous 
when  it  involves  the  emotional  side  of  our  nature.  Reli- 
gious teachers  use  this  fact  not  only  properly  to  instruct  in 
morality  and  religion,  but  also  to  excite  early  prejudices 
and  repulsions  which  can  never  be  shaken  off.  Nurses 
often  give  children  associations  of  fear  which  persist 
through  life.  This  is  the  origin,  frequently,  of  the  insist- 
ent ideas  spoken  of,  which  intrude  themselves  upon  us 
and  make  many  of  us  to  a  degree  hobbyists  and  mono- 
maniacs. 

Attention  Necessary  to  Apperception.  As  will  appear 
later,  it  is  only  in  and  through  the  attention  that  the 
apperceptive  function  of  mind  comes  into  play.  In  its 
discriminating,  selecting,  and  relating  results,  the  concen- 
trated attention  is  called  apperception  ;  but  the  active 
process  which  produces  these  results  is  the  attention.  At- 
tention and  apperception  seem  to  be  the  subjective  and 
presentational  sides  respectively  of  the  same  mental  fact. 


PART  IL 
INTELLECT. 


CHAPTER  Aai. 

DIVISION  OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FUNCTION.i 

The  Intellect  is  the  instrument  of  knowledge.  Using 
the  word  "  function  "  simply  to  mean  "  aspect,"  or  "  ex- 
hibition," we  may  say  that  Intellect  has  two  functions  : 

I.  The  Apperceptive  Function,  which  in  turn  com- 
prises : 

1.  Presentation  or  Acquisitio?i,  being 

a.  Sensation  ; 

b.  Perception. 

2.  liejwesentation,  being 

a.  Conservation  or  Memory  ; 

b.  Combination  ; 

c.  Elaboration. 

II.  The  Rational  Function.  • 

§  1.  Demarkatiox  of  the  Functions. 

I.  The  Apperceptive  Function.  Under  this  function 
are  included  all  those  changes  in  the  presented  content  of 
consciousness  which  take  place  under  the  form  of  apper- 
ception ;  those  which  owe  their  product  to  the  concentra- 
tion "^  of  attention. 

The  function  of  Presentation  or  Acquisition  is  that  by 
which  the  material  of  knowledge  is  gained.     It  covers  the 

'  Handbook,  vol.  i.  chap.  vi. 
*  See  the  defiuition  of  apperception,  above  p.  59. 
81 


82  DIVISION  OF  INTELLECT. 

two  sources  of  our  knowledge  in  experience,  Sense-percep- 
tion and  Self -consciousness. 

The  function  of  Representation,  as  the  word  implies,  is 
that  by  which  the  material  acquired  in  presentation  is  re- 
tained, reproduced,  and  intelligently  used  in  the  processes 
of  mind.  Its  operations  are  considered  under  three  great 
heads  :  a.  Conservation  or  Memory,  w^hich  includes  the 
Retention,  Reproduction,  Recognition,  and  liocalization  in 
time,  of  Representations  ;  h.  Combination,  which  is  the 
disposition  of  reproduced  states  in  the  new  forms  of  the 
Imagination,  the  law  of  its  disposition  being  Association  ; 
c.  Elaboration,  which  is  tbe  function  of  intellect  proper, 
constituting  the  operations  of  Thought.  Under  it  we  find 
again  three  mental  stages.  Conception,  Judgment,  Reason- 
ing. 

II.  The  Rational  Function.  In  this  aspect  we  view 
consciousness  not  as  content,  but  as  form  or  mold  for  the 
material  of  knowledge.  All  the  foregoing  operations,  both 
presentative  and  representative,  are  subject  to  a  law  of 
universal  validity,  the  law  of  Identity  or  Non-contradiction. 
And  the  intelligence  w^hen  exercised  upon  things  in  general 
is  governed  by  tlie  principle  of  Sufficient  Reason.  As 
judgments  these  principles  are  also  synthetic,  but  they 
seem  to  carry  their  own  universal  validity  as  matters  of 
self-veflection,  and  not  to  be  given  in  the  content  of 
apperception.  These  with  other  principles  of  the  same 
nature,  as  causation,  right  and  wrong,  run  through  all 
knowledge  and  constitute  the  Reason. 


THE  APPERCEPTIVE  FUNCTION. 
PRESENT  A  TION. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SENSATION.  > 
§  1.  General  Nature  of  Sensation. 

Sensations  are  the  primary  eveuts  of  the  mental  life. 
The\^  are  so  called  because  they  arise  through  the  senses. 
AYe  use  the  word  in  its  usual  sense,  as  meaning  the  great 
body  of  ps^'chological  phenomena,  both  affective  and 
presentative,  which  result  witldn  the  mind  immediately 
from  impressions  upon  the  senses.  The  experiences  of 
moisture  and  resistance  which  follow  from  contact  with  a 
piece  of  iron,  and  the  pain  felt  in  case  it  is  hot,  are  equally 
sensations. 

Distinction  between  Sensation  and  Impression.  Sen- 
sation being  thus  defined,  it  must  be  carefully  distinguished 
from  the  physical  phenomenon  which  precedes  or  accom- 
panies it.  The  impression  is  the  modification  of  the  organ, 
especially  of  the  nerves  and  nervous  centers,  which  arises 
from  an  external  stimulus  ;  as  the  vibration  of  ether  or  air. 
The  nature  of  the  different  sense  impressions  is  not  well 
understood  ;  but  in  each  case  they  are  some  form  of  move- 
ment. They  have  all  the  characteristics  of  physical  phe- 
nomena :  they  can  be  located,  measured,  apprehended  by 
the  senses.  Sensations,  on  the  other  hand,  cannot  be  com- 
pared M'ith  movement  of  any  kind.     The  difference  between 

'  lliti,,Vi,H,k  of  Pf<y<'hoh(jy,  vol.  1.  chap.  vii.  and   vol,  ii.  chap,  iv, 

83 


84  SENSATION. 

them  is  plainly  seen  in  tlie  fact  that  an  impression  may  take 
place  without  any  sensation.  The  impression  may  be  too 
feeble,  or  too  prolonged;  or  too  often  repeated,  as  the  irri- 
tation of  our  clothing,  to  which  we  are  habituated  ;  or  the 
attention  may  be  occupied,  so  that  the  impression  does  not 
produce  its  usual  sensation. 

Affective  and  Presentative  Elements  in  Sensation. 
In  most  sensations  tliere  is  a  distinct  knowledge  element 
over  and  above  the  intensive  subjective  state,  which  con- 
stitutes the  sensation  proper.  There  is  an  element  of 
knowledge  of  things  without  us  or  of  our  own  bodies. 
This  is  the  presentative  ov  perception  element  in  sensation. 
There  are  great  diiferences  in  sensations  in  this  respect. 

The  affective  or  feeling  quality,  on  the  other  hand, 
comes  out  most  strongly  in  cases  of  massive  or  voluminous 
stimulation  :  here  presented  relations  are  at  a  minimum 
and  sensibility  is  at  a  maximum.  When  one  plunges  into  a 
very  hot  bath,  the  feeling  experienced  is  so  overwhelming 
that  the  knowledge  that  it  is  a  hot  bath,  and  that  it  is  I 
myself  who  am  taking  the  bath,  occupies  a  very  slight  de- 
gree of  consciousness.  We  can  imagine  the  diffused  wave 
of  feeling  that  sweeps  over  the  jelly-fish  when  an  unwary 
insect  settles  on  its  exposed  surface.  In  a  case  of  severe 
toothache,  also,  what  we  really  have  predominating  in  con- 
sciousness is  not  knowledge,  but  feeling.  As  an  immediate 
state  of  consciousness,  we  do  not  know  that  we  have  a 
toothache,  wQfeel  it.  Hamilton  announced  the  law,  already 
anticipated  by  Kant,  that  the  two  elements  vary  in  inverse 
ratio — which  is  true  only  in  a  very  rough  way.  The  relation 
of  the  two  elements  in  the  different  senses  is  spoken  of  in 
what  follows. 

§  2.  Characters  of  Sensation. 

All  sensations  have  certain  general  characters,  which 
may  be  subjected  to  investigation,  These  characters  are 
four  in  number, 


ITS  CHARACTERS.  85 

I.  Quality :  that  propert}^  by  wliich  sensations  are  dis- 
tinguished as  coming  from  different  senses,  such  as  color, 
sound,  taste. 

II.  Quantity:  meaning  intensity  or  mass  of  sensation. 
Investigations  in  intensity  constitute  PsychopJiysics. 

III.  Duration:  the  time  occupied  by  the  sense  function 
with  its  accompanying  physical  and  volitional  processes. 
Investigations  in  this  field  constitute  Psychometry. 

IV.  Tone:^  the  pleasure  or  pain  which  accompanies  all 
sensation.     These  characters  are  considered  in  order. 

§  3.  Quality  of  Sensation. 

There  is  much  uncertainty  as  to  the  proper  classification 
of  sensations.  It  ai)pears  very  easy  to  discover  at  once 
what  is  immediately  given  as  a  pure  and  simple  sensation. 
But  it  is  not  so.  At  tlie  age  of  maturity,  when  one  is  able 
to  make  an  analytical  study  of  his  states,  he  finds  them  no 
longer  in  that  pure  and  primitive  state  which  he  would 
wish.  Tiiey  have  undergone  a  twofold  alteration.  In  the 
first  place,  all  our  senses  act  together,  and  different  sensa- 
tions, by  virtue  of  the  laws  of  association,  are  experienced  as 
one.  And  further,  by  virtue  of  the  same  laws,  intellectual 
elements  are  superposed  upon  our  sensations,  making  them 
much  more  complex.  These  associations  become,  after 
time  has  made  them  habitual,  almost  indissoluble.  So  that 
it  is  very  difticult  to  isolate  the  different  sensations  from 
one  another,  or  the  great  body  of  sensitive  data  from  the 
contributions  of  reason  and  experience. 

Relativity  of  Sense-qualities:  Contrast.  Further,  we 
find  a  series  of  phenomena  wliich  sliow  that  there  is  no 
fixed  typical  sensation  of  each  quality  ;  but  that  all  deter- 
minations of  quality  are  to  a  degree  relative  distinctions 
among  many  "  moments  "  in  consciousness.  This  principle 
of  "  relativit}^  "  is  illustrated  by  tlio  so-called  phenomena  of 

'  This  word  is  used  throughout  for  the  expression  "  liedonic  tone." 


86  SENSATION. 

contrast.  The  general  statement  of  fact  is  this  :  Any 
sensation  (color,  sound,  taste)  wliich  occurs  after  or  with 
other  sensations  (colors,  etc.)  is  different  from  what  it 
would  have  been  if  the  otlier  sensations  had  not  been 
present,  or  if  the  other  sensations  had  themselves  been 
different ;  the  variation,  however,  is  within  the  same  sense- 
quality. 

In  the  domain  of  the  special  senses,  such  effects  of  one 
sense-quality  upon  another  may  be  subjected  to  experi- 
mental determination  by  psycho-physical  methods.  The 
phenomena  of  color-contrast  are  the  richest  and  best  under- 
stood class  of  facts.  In  general,  color-contrast  means  that 
when  part  of  the  retina  is  stimulated  to  react  to  a  partic- 
ular color,  there  is  a  tetidency  of  other  portions  to  react  to 
the  complementary  color.  For  example,  the  so-called 
"Meyer's  experiment  "  may  be  cited  :  put  a  scrap  of  gray 
paper  on  a  colored  (red)  background,  and  spread  over  the 
whole  a  sheet  of  white  tissue  ;  '  the  gray  scrap  will  now 
tend  to  assume  the  color  complementary  to  the  background 
(green).  Recent  researcli  has  developed  a  number  of  in- 
teresting optical  phenomena  of  this  class.  Stumpf  has 
discovered  that  the  pitch  of  a  note  is  modified  by  the 
occurrence  of  another  note  of  a  different  pitch,  in  such  a 
way  that  the  interval  between  tliem  is  lessened.  Striking 
contrasts  are  also  easily  demonstrated  in  color,  light,  and 
tone  intensities.  Contrasts  of  temperature  are  also  easily 
brought  about.  Cold  water  feels  colder  if  the  hand  is  just 
from  warm  water.  Differences  in  temperature  of  the  two 
hands  lead  to  exas^orerated  differences  of  sensation  when 
they  are  plunged  together  into  two  vessels  of  water  of  the 
same  temperature.  Contrast  is  called  simultaneous  or  suc- 
cessive according  as  the  rival  sensational  qualities  occur 
together  or  in  succession. 

'  The  white  sheet  over  the  whole  is  necessary  to  obscure  distinct 
lines  of  separation  between  the  colors  beneath :  if  such  distinct 
boundary  lines  are  exposed,  the  contrast  plienomcna  disappear. 


SENSE-QUALITIES.  87 

Two  theories  of  sensational  contrast  have  been  advocated, 
one  called  the  "psychological,"  according  to  which  such 
contrasts  are  due  to  judgment  or  synthesis,  the  actual 
sensations  themselves  having  fixed  and  unaltered  qualities. 
This  has  been  held  by  Helmholtz,  and  has  been  used  to 
support  the  theory  that  there  may  be  "unconscious  judg- 
ments." The  other,  the  "  pliysiological  theory,"  holds  that 
contrast-effects  are  due  to  complex  conditions  of  stimula- 
tion. The  different  color-stimuli,  for  example,  are  not 
reported  separately  to  consciousness  ;  but  only  their  united 
effect  is  operative  in  the  optical  center.  Consequenth% 
what  we  have  is  a  case  of  summation  or  fusion  of 
stimuli,  not  of  comparison  and  judgment  of  sensational 
atoms.  This  latter  theory  is  now  completely  victorious, 
principally  through  the  brilliant  experimental  work  of 
Hering. 

Conclusion  on  Sense-qualities.  It  seems  reasonably 
safe  to  conclude  that  there  are  well  specialized  nervous 
functions  which  correspond  to  the  great  differences  of 
quality  in  sensations  :  this-  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the 
differences  are  stable  ;  that  the  senses  are  largeh"  inde- 
pendent of  one  another  in  their  activity  ;  that  each  such 
function  has  normal  minimum  and  maximum  activities 
which  give  original  degrees  of  intensity  in  consciousness. 
But  within  these  limitations  both  qualities  and  intensities 
are  subject  to  the  law  of  relativity  as  well  by  reason  of 
nervous  summation  as  of  mental  synthesis.* 

§  4.  Special  Sexsatioxs. 

Smell.  The  complication  of  data  spoken  of  may  be 
illustrated  in  the  sense  of  smell.  The  pure  sensation 
cannot  be  Isolated  :  it  involves  both   intellectual  data  and 

'  See  the  "Relation  of  Sensation  to  Knowledge,"  in  my  Hand- 
hook  of  PsycJiology,  vol.  ii.  chap.  iv.  §  1,  where  the  presentative  or 
knowledge  element  in  sensations  is  shown  to  be  due  to  an  early 
apperceptive  synthesis. 


88  SENSATION. 

a  mullitude  of  other  sensations.  Among  the  acquired 
notions  which  a  given  odor  involves,  is  the  representation 
of  tlie  object  from  which  the  odor  proceeds,  an  association 
extremely  serviceable  to  man  and  animals  in  finding  and 
testing  food  ;  the  more  or  less  exact  notion  of  the  direction 
and  distance  of  the  object  ;  and  finally,  the  idea  of  the 
organ  of  the  body  which  is  affected.  The  localization  of 
smell  in  the  nostrils  is  very  vague  and  gives  us  little 
knowledge.  On  the  other  hand  the  concomitant  sensations 
with  which  this  sense  is  connected  are  very  numerous  and 
complicated.  First,  there  are  organic  and  vital  sensations 
arising  from  the  digestive  and  respiratory  tracts.  We 
distinguish  between  appetitive  odors  and  nauseating  odors. 
The  odor  of  meat  excites  the  appetite  of  carnivorous  ani- 
mals, and  that  of  a  full  pantry  moves  our  own.  And  in 
relation  to  respiration,  odors  are  fresh,  as  that  of  Cologne 
water,  which  excites  a  feeling  of  freedom  in  breathing  ;  or 
suffocating,  as  that  of  a  long  shut  up  house,  which  seems 
to  hinder  respiration.  Second,  we  find  sensations  of  taste 
always  associated  with  those  of  smell.  The  organs  of  taste 
and  smell  seem  to  act  in  sympathj^  We  speak  of  delicious 
odors  as  giving  us  a  taste  of  the  object  beforehand.  Third, 
sensations  of  touch  are  associated  with  smell  in  the  mucous 
lining  of  the  nostril,  as  in  impressions  which  involve  a 
tickling  sensation.  Fourth,  there  are  also  muscular  sen- 
sations arising  from  the  movement  of  the  nostrils  in 
breathing  in  odorous  vapors.  Fifth,  to  these  we  add  sensa- 
tions of  temperature,  heat  and  cold.  The  odor  of  camphor 
seems  cold  and  that  of  alcohol  warm. 

It  has  been  found  impossible  to  isolate  pure  sensations 
of  smell  for  classification  or  description.  The  most  we  can 
do  is  to  throw  them  into  general  classes,  as  aromatic, 
fragrant,  pungent,  which  are  not  at  all  exhaustive.  This 
applies  in  a  measure  also  to  the  other  sensations,  though  in 
a  less  degree  in  the  higher  senses — sight,  touch,  and  sound. 

Taste.     Taste  is  involved  in   the   same   obscuritv.     AVe 


TASTK.  89 

only  know  that  it  lias  its  organ  in  elements  on  the  surface 
of  the  tongue,  called  gustatory  bulbs  or  flasks,  which  com- 
municate with  the  sensorium  by  the  lingual  and  glossal 
nerves.  The  intimate  connection  with  smell  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that  the  impairment  of  smell  by  disease  or  cold  in- 
jures the  power  of  taste.  Tastes  are  infinite  in  their  variety 
and  cannot  be  classified.  Certain  classes  of  tastes  are  well 
discriminated  in  experience,  such  as  sweet,  bitter,  sour  ;  but 
they  are  very  few  compared  with  the  vast  number  which 
remain  uudescribed.  'J'he  presentative  element  in  sensa- 
tions of  taste  is  very  slight.  We  have  an  indefinite  feeling 
of  the  locality  of  the  sensation,  but  this  arises,  in  the  main, 
from  feelings  of  touch  upon  foreign  substances  in  the 
moutli,  and  from  the  muscular  movement  of  the  organs 
involved  in  eating  or  drinking.  No  knowledge  of  the 
object  affecting  us  is  given  immediatel}^  in  either  taste  or 
smell,  since  the  stimulating  agent  is  in  gaseous  or  soluble 
form. 

Hearing:  Presentative  Elements.  Sensations  of  sound 
have  a  specific  quality  wliich  is  known  through  the  ear.^ 
The  psychological  value  of  these  sensations  consists  in  the 
fact  that  they  occur  purely  in  time  and  have  no  spatial 
qualit\'.  A  series  of  sounds  is  the  type  of  pure  temporal 
succession. 

The  three  most  presentative  classes  of  sensations,  we  have 
said  above,  are  those  of  sound,  sight,  and  touch.  In  the 
case  of  sounds  we  find  peculiar  properties  upon  which 
exact  methods  of  research  may  be  brought  to  bear. 
These  properties,  however,  are  presentative  only  in  as  far 
as  they  sustain  relations  of  time.  Like  other  sensations, 
sounds  may  be  distinguished  in  hitensity  in  an  exact  way. 
This  intensit}^  depends  upon  the  amplitude  of  the  vibrations 
of  the  sonorous  bod^^.  Further,  they  are  distinguished  in 
their  timbre,  which  depends  uj^on  the  addition  to  the  vibra- 

'  For  the  mechanism  of  hearing,  see  Bernstein,  Five  Senses  of 
Man. 


90  BEKSAT102T. 

tioiis,  which  produce  the  fundamental  tone,  of  other  vibra* 
tions  twice,  three  times,  ...  as  rapid.  This  difference  in 
timbre  ^ives  its  characteristic  sound  to  each  different  mate- 
rial, as  metallic,  vegetable,  and  thus  corresponds  to  the 
difference  in  kind  of  odors  and  tastes.  But  the  special 
peculiarity  of  sounds  in  this  particular  is  found  in  what  is 
called  tone  as  distinguislied  from  noise.  Tliis  quality  of 
the  tone  or  note  is  pitch  or  height,  depends  upon  regular 
periodical  vibrations,  and  varies  with  their  number.  There 
is  nothing  corresponding  to  this  in  smell  or  taste.  We 
cannot  make  up  a  scale  or  gamut  of  tastes  as  we  can  of 
notes.  Upon  this  peculiarity  of  sound,  having  its  basis  of 
sensation  probably  in  the  fibers  of  Corti  in  the  cochlea  of 
tlie  ear,  or  in  tlie  fibers  of  the  basilar  membrane  to  which 
they  are  attaclied,  tlie  whole  science  of  music  is  built  up. 
Tiiere  is  probably,  in  the  inner  ear,  a  series  of  vibrating 
elements  which  correspond,  though  more  minutely,  to  the 
intervals  of  the  musical  scale.  The  perception  of  distance 
and  direction  by  the  ear  is  largely  acquired  by  association. 

Sensations  of  sound  are  singularly  free  from  the  disturb- 
ing influence  of  other  sensations,  and  for  this  reason  they 
are  directly  accessible  to  experimental  researches  of  all 
kinds.  We  shall  find  this  the  case  in  speaking  of  the  other 
characters  of  sensation. 

Sight.'  Sight  is  perhaps  the  most  presentative  sense. 
It  is  the  medium  of  much  direct  knowledge  of  the  external 
world.  Its  affective  qualities  consist  in  the  pure  intensity  of 
the  liorht  sensation — as  the  liojht  of  one  candle  or  of  two — 
and  in  the  distinct  order  of  sensations  known  as  color.  Tlie 
sensations  of  color  arise  from  the  varjdng  rates  of  vibration 
of  particles  of  luminous  ether.  These  different  rapidities 
give  an  ascending  scale  through  the  seven  colors  of  the 
rainbow,  from  the  red  to  the  violet,  similar  to  the  scale  in 
sound  sensations,  though  not  as  extended  or  exact.     The 

'  For  the  mechanism  and  general  facts  of  sight  see  Bernstein, 
loc.  cit.,  and  Le  Conte,  Sight. 


SIGHT.  91 

colors  sliade  off  into  one  another  witli  no  regular  law  of 
cliange.  Sensations  of  color  have  intensity,  saturation,  and 
tonality.  The  intensity",  says  Helmholtz,  depends  upon 
the  quantity  of  light.  Saturation  is  the  relative  purity  of 
a  color.  Degrees  of  saturation  are  known  as  shades,  as 
pink  in  its  relation  to  scarlet.  Tonality  is  the  quality  of 
the  color  as  determined  by  its  position  in  the  scale  of  the 
spectrum,  as  blue,  green,  yellow. 

The  spatial  form  of  the  objects  of  sight  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  its  presentative  properties.  This  will 
be  discussed  in  the  section  on  space-perception.*  The  fact 
that  there  are  two  eyes  contributes  to  this  result,  especially 
in  the  perception  of  the  third  dimension.  It  is  difficult  to 
isolate  pure  sensations  of  sight  from  the  muscular  and 
tactual  sensations  which  are  always,  in  actual  life,  associated 
with  them,  and  it  is  probable,  as  will  appear  later,  that 
these — especially  the  muscular  sensations — are  also  con- 
cerned in  the  formation  of  the  notion  of  space. 

In  regard  to  the  process  of  the  perception  of  color  through 
the  eye,  two  principal  theories  have  been  advanced,  assum- 
ing that  the  retina  is  distinctively  the  locus  of  this  process. 
We  find,  in  tlie  retina,  distinctly  differentiated  and  minute 
nervous  elements  called  rods  and  cones  which,  it  is  thought, 
react  locally,  thus  making  possible  the  picture  of  the  object 
seen.  But  as  to  the  color  sense  proper,  the  case  is  more 
uncertain.  According  to  the  Young-Helmholtz  theory 
there  are  three  different  kinds  of  nerve  fiber,  each  of  which 
reacts  to  one  of  the  three  fundamental  colors,  red,  green, 
and  violet  ;  the  other  colors  are  complex  and  result  from 
their  combined  action.  This  theory  w^as,  until  recentl}", 
very  generally  accepted.  Among  other  objections  to  it,  it 
is  urged  that  the  microscope  reveals  no  such  differentiation 
of  fiber,  and  the  smallest  sensation  w^hich  can  be  perceived 
by  the  eye  is  of  white  light,  which  involves  all  these  ele- 
ments. The  other  theory  is  that  of  E.  Hering,  who  supposes 
that  there  are  two  elements  or  substances  each  capable  of 
J  Cluip.  ix.  §  4. 


S^  SEXSATIOX 

two  different  reactions,  thus  giving  four  fundamental  colors, 
red,  green,  blue,  and  j^ellow.  This  theory,  however,  has  also 
grave  difficulties  to  face.  Yellow  can  be  produced  by  color- 
combination.     Neither  theory  explains  color-blindness. 

Tlie  phenomena  of  color-blhidness  ^  support  the  general 
view  of  the  differentiation  of  structure  or  function  in  the 
nerve  elements  of  the  retina.  This  istlie  inability  of  about 
one  person  in  twenty  to  distinguish  certain  colors.  Blind- 
ness for  red  is  most  common.  It  is  thought  tliat  all  cases 
can  be  reduced  to  blindness  either  for  red  or  green  ;  though 
there  are  cases  in  which  only  different  degrees  of  gray  are 
distinguislied.  To  the  latter  all  objects  seen  are  like  the 
photographs  of  the  same  objects.  Different  regions  of  tlie 
retina  have  different  degrees  of  sensibility  to  color  ;  this 
sensibility  growing  less  as  we  go  outward  from  the  central 
part.  The  outer  rim  of  the  retina  is  normally  insensitive 
for  red,  but  reacts  for  the  otlier  colors.  This  show^s  that 
there  are  special  elements  which  react  only  to  red. 

A  further  phenomenon,  that  of  after-images,  is  especially 
noticeable  and  important  in  sight.  After-images  are  the 
persistence  of  sensations  after  their  peculiar  stimuli  have 
ceased  to  act.  Look  at  a  bright  window  and  then  close  the 
ej^es,  and  the  after-image  is  seen.  This  is  called  a  positive 
after-image,  and  is  due  to  the  dying  out  of  the  nervous 
process.  Further,  if  the  bright  object  be  colored  its  after- 
image plays  between  that  color  and  its  complementary  (the 
color  needed  to  make  white  in  composition  with  it).  This 
appearance  of  the  complementary  color  involves  additional 
elements  to  those  originally  stimulated  and  this  latter  fact 
makes  it  a  negative  after-image.  It  is  due  to  the  exhaustion 
of  the  nervous  elements  involved  in  the  original  color,  by 
which  white  light  is  broken  up  and  only  the  complementary 
elements  act.  This  persistence  of  sensation  in  the  organism 
is  important  as  explaining  compound  and  intense  forms 
of  excitation.     As  Fechner  has  pointed  out,  the  after-image 

'  See  "  Report  on  Colour  Vision,"  Proc.  Roy.  Soc,  1892,  No.  311. 


COMMOX  SEX^ATIOX.  93 

has  only  two  dimensions,  and  thus  differs   both  from  the 
actual  percept  and  from  its  revived  image. 

§  5.  CoMMOx  Sexsatiox. 

Divisions  in  Common  Sensation.  Such  a  division  is 
based  upon  the  physiological  differences  to  which  we  would 
expect  some  conscious  counterpart.  The  great  organic 
processes  of  the  body  go  on  under  the  lead  and  control  of 
automatic  nerve-reactions  ;  a  bod}'  of  nerves  are  dele- 
gated to  this  post  of  function  ;  there  are  accordingly  or- 
ganic  sensations^  the  subjective  indications  of  organic 
health  or  disease.  Again,  the  periphery  of  the  body  is 
supplied  with  a  mass  of  fibrils  of  incalculable  delicacy  and 
number  which  have  no  representation  in  the  list  of  special 
sensations  ;  accordingly  a  great  variety  of  more  or  less 
distinct  forms  of  sensibility  seem  to  originate  in  the  skin  and 
are  called  cutaneous  sensations.  Further,  consciousness  of 
movement,  the  so-called  motor  consciousness,  is  found  on 
examination  not  to  be  simj^le.  It  involves  an  exceedingly 
complex  nervous  apparatus,  both  central  and  superficial  ; 
and  all  the  forms  of  sensibility  which  pertain  to  muscular 
movement  ma\^  be  designated  by  the  general  name  muscular 
sensations.  And,  finall}^,  the  nervous  elements  are  them- 
selves endowed  with  sensibility.  Besides  reporting  the 
forms  of  stimulation  which  reach  the  organs  with  which 
they  stand  in  immediate  connection,  the  nerves  report  a 
variety  of  conditions  to  which  they  are  themselves  directly 
sensitive.  All  such  modifications  of  sensibility  may  be 
called  nervous  sensations. 

Organic  or  Systemic  Sensations.  There  are  through- 
out the  body  various  organic  sensations  which  are  quite  in- 
ternal and  only  indefinitely  localized.  Such  are  the  visceral 
sensations,  respiratory  sensations,  feelings  of  bodily  comfort 
or  discomfort  in  general.  Their  most  marked  characteristic 
is  their  tone  value,  the  high  degree  of  pleasure  or  pain  whicji 
they  contain,     These  sensations,  however  vague  and  geu 


94  SENSATION. 

eral,  are  of  great  importance  to  the  mental  life.  They  are 
tlie  background  of  our  emotional  condition — since  they  in- 
dicate an  elevated  or  depressed  condition  of  bodily  vitality 
— and  give  general  cast  to  our  state  of  mind.  The  dyspep- 
tic soon  becomes  unreasonable  and  gloomy,  and  biliousness 
interferes  with  the  normal  activity  of  the  mind.  The  gen- 
eral condition  of  the  sensorium  as  a  whole  is  often  a  de- 
termining factor  in  thought  and  conduct.  It  is  notice- 
able that  changes  in  climate  and  weather  have  a  great 
influence  upon  these  organic  feelings,  largely  'through 
the  elevation  or  depression  of  the  respiratory  function. 
More  particular  sensations  of  this  class  are  the  organic 
needs — hunger,  thirst,  air,  sleep,  exercise,  etc.,  and  those 
connected  with  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  such  as  con- 
gestion, throbbing,  faintness,  etc. 

Cutaneous  Sensations.  In  connection  with  the  skin  an 
enormous  variety  of  feelings  are  reported  in  consciousness. 
Of  these,  three  general  classes  lay  claim  to  special  end  ap- 
paratus, sensations  of  touch,  temperature,  and  pressure. 
Besides  these,  the  more  definite  sensations  having  their 
stimulation  in  the  skin  are  those  of  itching,  scratching, 
flesh-crawling,  tickling,  and  feelings  of  the  sharp,  blunt, 
hard,  soft,  rough,  smooth,  coarse,  sticky,  damp,  dr^^,  oily, 
etc.  Nothing  more  can  be  said  of  most  of  these  forms 
of  sensibility.  They  are  present  in  greater  or  less  intensity 
and  delicacy  wherever  the  skin  is  normal. 

Touch.  Sensations  of  touch  constitute  the  basis  of  a 
variety  of  states  which  we  distinguish  ordinarily  as  quali- 
tatively different.  An  element  of  touch  enters  into  sensa- 
tions of  muscular  movement,  both  from  external  contact 
and  from  the  rubbing  of  the  inner  parts  against  one 
another.  Besides,  we  distinguish  sensations  of  the  rough, 
smooth,  coarse,  polished,  damp,  and  sticky  ;  but  phj^siol- 
ogists  have  shown  that  they  are  not  special  sensations,  as 
Reid  believed,  but  modifications  of  touch,  combined  with 
feelings  of  pressure.     The  importance  of  touchj  as  being 


TOUCH.  95 

capable  of  so  many  modifications,  as  having  its  end  organs 
over  all  parts  of  the  body,  and  as  acting  in  conjunction 
with  other  sensations  in  their  peculiar  organs,  is  seen  to  be 
very  great. 

The  presentative  quality  of  touch,  considered  quite 
alone,  is  space,  as  it  is  built  up  from  the  recognition  of  the 
locality  of  the  parts  of  our  own  body/ 

The  nerve  elements  of  touch,  as  well  as  those  of  pressure, 
are  clearly  defined.  They  are  corpuscles  situated  in  the  skin, 
which  communicate  directly  with  the  great  sensor  nerves 
by  ramifying  fibrils.  These  corpuscles  are  distributed  in 
varying  number  in  different  parts  of  the  skin.  The  experi- 
ments of  E.  A.  Weber  showing  this  are  celebrated.  He 
employed  dividers  opened  at  varying  degrees,  the  minimum 
distance  felt  between  the  points  being  the  diameter  of  the 
smallest  "sensation-circle."  The  tip  of  the  tongue  and  the 
red  of  the  lips  have  great  delicacy  of  touch  ;  while  the 
back  of  the  neck  is  very  insensible.  The  circles,  however, 
are  not  the  smallest  units  of  tactual  sensation  and  must 
contain  many  nerve  elements  ;  for  it  has  been  shown  that 
there  are  distinct  and  very  minute  pressure  spots  within 
these  circles.  The  same  is  seen  in  the  marvelous  capacity 
of  both  these  senses  to  become  more  delicate  with  exercise. 
In  the  hypnotic  state,  also,  delicacy  of  discrimination  by 
touch  is  greatly  exaggerated. 

From  the  universal  presence  of  touch  and  its  immediate 
reference  to  the  external  world,  it  is  of  great  importance  in 
cases  of  appeal  from  the  other  senses,  and  in  cases  of  hal- 
lucination. When  in  doubt  about  the  objects  of  vision  or 
sound,  we  feel  after  them  with  the  hand.  For  this  reason 
touch  is  called  the  "  controlling  "  sense. 

Temperature  Sense.  The  last  of  the  senses,  in  order  of 
discovery,  is  the  temperature  sense.  Like  touch,  it  is  a 
universal  sense  and  has  its  end  apparatus  in  the  skin.  Mi- 
nute points  called  "temperature  spots,"  which  react,  some 
for  heat  and  others  for  cold,  are  scattered  over  the  skin  in 
*  See  chap.  ix.  §  4, 


96  SENSATION. 

varying  degrees  of  nearness  to  one  another.  They  have 
been  plotted  on  the  backs  and  palms  of  the  hands  and  on 
tlie  arms.  Of  the  different  nerve  terminations  in  the  skin 
— elements  of  Krause,  Paccini,  and  Meissner — it  is  impos- 
sible to  tell  whicli  belong  to  touch  and  which  to  tempera- 
ture. The  varying  number  of  these  spots  in  different  local- 
ities and  the  consequent  variations  in  delicacy  of  perception 
of  heat  and  cold,  make  quantitative  measurements  for  this 
sense  very  difficult.  Tliese  sensations  liave  a  very  slight  pre- 
sentative  element  in  their  vague  reference  to  bodily  locality.' 

Muscular  Sense.  The  earliest  of  the  senses  in  its  devel- 
opment is  the  muscular  sense.  By  it  is  meant  feelings  of 
the  activity  of  the  muscles  of  the  body  as  concerned  in 
movement.  As  to  the  existence  of  such  a  class  of  sensa- 
tions, as  seen  in  lifting,  pushing,  straining,  and  in  the 
weariness  tliat  follows  muscular  exertion,  there  is  no  doubt. 
Many  psychologists,  however,  attempt  to  resolve  them  into 
sensations  of  touch,  or  consider  them  as  an  "assemblage 
of  sensations  of  different  categories."  The  former,  how- 
ever, cannot  be  held,  since  such  sensations  remain  after 
complete  destruction  of  the  sensibility  of  the  skin  in  cases 
of  anaesthesia  of  the  limbs.  Beaunis  finds  that  a  singer 
retains  control  over  the  vocal  chords  after  their  sensitive- 
ness to  touch  has  been  destroyed  by  cocaine.  Clinical 
cases  show  the  same  for  the  limbs.  This  indicates  that  the 
skin  is  not  the  exclusive  organ  of  muscular  sensations. 
But,  further  than  tliis,  the  muscular  sensations  have  char- 
acteristics peculiar  to  themselves. 

Analysis  of  Muscular  Sensation.  1.  Kincesthetlc  Sen- 
sations. Suppose  for  clearness,  in  the  first  instance,  a  case 
of  mechanical  movement.  My  right  arm  is  lifted  swiftly 
by  a  friend,  my  own  attitude  being  that  of  entire  passivity 
and  non-resistance,  and  when  level  with  the  shoulder  the 
elbow,  wrist,  and  fingers  are  in  succession  flexed.  What 
do  I  feel  ? 

'  On  the  temperature  sense  see  Donaldson  in  Mind,  x.  p.  399 


MUSCULAR  8EXSE.  97 

In  the  first  place,  I  liave  certain  particular  feelings  from 
the  skin:  the  feeling  of  passage  through  the  air,  due 
mainly  to  a  lowering  of  temperature,  and  the  feeling  of 
stretching  where  the  skin  is  tightly  drawn.  The  flexing 
of  the  finger  backward  brings  out  this  feeling  of  cuticular 
strain.  I  also  experience  sensations  of  touch  if  the  skin 
breaks  contact  or  comes  into  contact  with  any  external 
body,  as  the  clothing  of  the  arm.  In  the  second  place, 
I  have  certain  particular  feelings  from  the  ;>z?^c<fc7es,  which 
are  clear  enough  to  be  easily  distinguished  :  the  feeling 
of  contraction  in  the  muscle  itself,  and  feelings  oi pressure 
of  the  parts  of  the  organs  against  one  another,  or  of  a 
muscle  against  an  obstruction. 

Besides  these  particular  and  more  or  less  clearly  localized 
feelings,  there  seems  to  be  a  sense  of  whereness  or  massice 
locality  of  the  limb,  as  a  whole,  in  reference  to  the  body. 
This  feeling  appears  to  be  made  up  of  elements  of  tension 
or  strain  in  the  bod}'  of  the  muscle,  and  of  similar  strain  in 
the  ligaments,  tendons,  and  especially  in  \\\Qi  joints.  In  the 
case  supposed,  this  last  feeling  is  plainly  localized  in  the 
shoulder  and  elbow  joints.  To  these  must  be  added  the 
sensations  of  muscular  fatigue,  now  demonstrated  by  Mag- 
giora  and  Mosso,  which  follow  the  prolonged  use  of  the 
same  muscles. 

Taken  together  these  more  or  less  distinct  kinds  of 
feeling  are  known  as  sensations  of  movement.  The  ex- 
pression is  so  ambiguous,  however,  having  been  applied  by 
some  writer,  perhaps,  to  each  of  the  subordinate  feelings 
in  turn,  that  a  better  name  for  the  class  is  at  hand  in  the 
Greek  equivalent  kincesthetic  sensatio?is.  The  further 
point  of  interest  in  them  is  that  the  nervous  process  which 
reports  them  to  consciousness  is  plainly  a  sensor  or  cffferent 
process. 

Kinaesthetic  Sensations  as  Immediate  or  Remote.  The 
sensations  of  movement  heretofore  described  have  their 
stimuli  in  the  organ   itself  which  makes  the  movement. 


98  SENSATION. 

Such  feelings  are  immediate.  On  the  contrary,  such  move- 
ments may  themselves  serve  to  stimulate  one  or  other  of 
the  special  senses,  giving  a  new  class  of  sensations  which 
report  tlie  movement.  Such  movement- reporting  sensa- 
tions from  other  senses  are  remote  kinaesthetic.  For  ex- 
ample, when  I  move  my  arm  with  my  eyes  shut  and  in 
the  presence  of  noises  which  prevent  my  hearing  the  rustle 
of  my  clothing,  etc.,  my  sensations  of  movement  are  im- 
mediate. I  now  open  my  eyes  and  see  the  arm  move  and 
listen  attentively  and  hear  it :  the  optical  and  auditory 
sensations  now  added  to  my  consciousness  are  remote 
kinaesthetic  feelings.  It  is  important  to  note  that  our 
feelings  of  movement  are  perhaps  never  free  from  these 
contributions  from  remote  sources.  They  almost  always 
enter  in  a  complete  statement  of  the  case. 

The  nervous  arrangement  which  underlies  this  confluence 
of  immediate  and  remote  sensations  is  only  another  illus- 
tration of  the  dynamic  unity  of  the  brain  as  a  whole.  The 
centers  for  sight  and  for  arm  movements,  for  example,  or 
those  of  hearing  and  of  vocal  movements,  have  connecting 
pathways  between  them.  The  activity  of  one  center  stim- 
ulates the  other  directly,  and  both  discharge  into  the  motor 
course  with  which  one  is  immediately  and  the  other  re- 
motely connected.^  On  the  other  hand,  instead  of  rein- 
forcing a  discharge,  a  remote  sensation  or  memory  may 
inhibit  it  altogether.  These  two  influences  from  the  same 
remote  center  are  illustrated  in  the  fact  that  in  reaching 
for  objects  the  eye  estimates  the  distance,  and  leads  to  our 
putting  forth  more  effort  to  stretch  across  it  as  the  object 
is  further  removed  ;  but  when  a  certain  distance  is  reached 

'  This  is  clearly  illustrated  by  cases  in  wliich  patients  are  unable  to 
move  their  limbs  as  long  as  their  eyes  are  closed,  but  can  do  so  when 
they  see  their  limbs.  This  means  that  the  direct  channel  into  the  limb 
center  is  blocked,  but  the  indirect  channel  through  the  visual  center 
is  still  open.  Writers  who  do  not  accept  sensations  of  central  inner- 
vation hold  that  all  voluntary  movements  are  stimulated  by  kinaes- 
thetic feelings  either  immediate  or  remote. 


MUSCULAR  SENSATIONS.  99 

tlie  same  kind  of  estimation  by  the  ej-es  leads  us  to  give  up 
the  effort  altogether.  In  one  case  the  optical  sensations  re- 
enforce  the  stimuli  to  movement,  and  in  the  other  they 
inhibit  the  movement. 

Furthermore,  what  is  true  of  sensations  in  general  as  re- 
gards their  possible  reproduction  or  memorj-  is  true  of 
these  states  of  the  sensibility.  The  special  basis  of  mem- 
ory will  be  seen  to  be  identical  with  tlie  nervous  con- 
ditions of  the  original  experience.  It  follows,  therefore, 
tliat  tlie  brain  centers  w^liich  receive  and  register  these 
kingesthetic  feelings  are  also  the  seat  of  kinaesthetic  mem- 
ories. From  tlie  nervous  point  of  view,  any  form  of  stim- 
ulus which  excites  the  kinaesthetic  center  or  centers  may 
bring  up  images  of  movement,  and  may,  through  these 
images,  serve  to  start  a  brain  process  which  issues  in  a 
series  of  real  movements.  What  we  may  call  the  motor 
or  stimulus  value  of  these  sensations  is  accordingly  pre- 
served in  a  Aveaker  degree  in  the  motor  or  stimulus  value 
of  their  memories,  both  immediate  and  remote. 

2.  Feelings  of  Innervation.  Continuing  the  analysis  of 
the  muscular  consciousness  as  it  arises  from  a  particular 
movement,  and  passing  from  mechanical  to  voluntary 
movement,  several  more  vague  and  indefinable  elements 
may  be  pointed  out.  First,  there  seems  to  be  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  state  of  the  motor  apparatus  as  a  whole,  as 
capable  or  incapable  of  the  movement  in  question.  It  is 
felt  in  the  system  as  a  disposition  or  indisposition  for  ac- 
tion. Considered  as  a  state  of  readiness  or  the  contrar3', 
it  may  be  called  feeling  of  motor  potential.  It  seems  to  be 
plain  in  the  different  consciousness  we  have  of  the  power 
of  the  right  and  left  arms  respectively. 

Fatigue  takes  on  a  peculiar  character  also  when  the 
fatiguing  movement  is  voluntary  ;  at  least  such  movement 
is  more  fatiguing  than  mechanical  movements.  No  doubt 
in  the  case  of  voluntary  movement  more  nervous  energy  is 
employed.     And  it  seems  equally   clear  that  in  the  two 


100  SENSATION. 

kinds  of  movement  the  kinsestlietic  feelings  remain  about 
the  same.  If  these  points  are  true  we  must  hold  either 
that  all  fatigue  is  nervous,  or  that  there  are  two  kinds  of 
fatigue — muscular  and  nervous.  Tiiis  last  hypothesis  is 
proved  b}'-  the  experiments  of  Mosso  and  Waller,  and  also 
gathers  support  from  the  feeling  of  intellectual  fatigue 
spoken  of  above,  which  would  have  less  of  the  muscular 
and  more  of  the  nervous  element.' 

Effort  and  Resistance.  There  are  accordingly  two  dis- 
tinct elements  involved  in  voluntary  movements  of  the 
muscles  :  first,  2i  feeling  of  effort^  and  second,  2i  feeling  of 
resistance.  The  feeling  of  effort  arises  from  the  condition 
of  the  nervous  centers,  and  is  called  ^\'!^o  feeling  of  innerva- 
tion. The  feeling  of  resistance,  on  the  other  hand,  seems 
to  have  its  seat  in  the  muscle  affected,  being  kinmsthetic. 
The  latter  is  felt  as  opposition  to  muscular  movement. 
Both  of  these  seem  to  be  involved  in  muscular  sensations, 
though  either  may  be  present  without  the  other.  In  cases 
of  paralysis  and  muscular  anaesthesia,  there  is  the  feeling 
of  effort  with  no  corresponding  muscular  movement  ;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  the  hand  or  arm  be  contracted  by 
galvanism,  in  contact  with  a  solid  body,  we  have  the  feel- 
ing of  resistance  or  pressure  without  that  of  effort.  The 
clear  distinction  between  the  two  classes  of  sensations  is 
seen  in  a  case  reported  by  Demeaux'^  of  a  woman  who  had 
lost  all  muscular  sensibility,  both  deep  and  superficial,  and 
while  the  power  of  voluntary  movement  remained,  was  yet 
ignorant  of  the  actual  movement,  and  the  position  of  the 
limbs.  The  sense  of  effort  remained,  but  the  sense  of  re- 
sistance was  gone.  The  feeling  of  effort  accompanies  the 
exercise  of  will  in  the  adult  consciousness  ;  but  in  child 
life  it  has  its  counterpart  probably  in  a  sensation  of  out- 

^  Mosso  proves  that  botli  are  present  after  hard  intellectual  work. 
Cf.  Waller's  able  article,  "  The  Sense  of  Effort,"  in  Brain,  1891, 
p.  179. 

?  Brain,  March,  1887,  p.  11, 


MVSCTLAU  SEXSATIOSS.  IQl 

ward  nervous  pressure,  as  soon  as  tlie  limbs  aie  inoved  and 
encounter  resistance  ;  and  the  idea  of  self  as  active  probably 
develops  out  of  sensations  of  the  kind.  Around  thera  the 
beginnings  of  attention  arise.  Feelings  of  resistance  also 
arise  equally  early  in  child  experience  and  are  exceedingly 
important  as  giving  the  first  knowledge  of  the  external 
world/  We  are  conscious  of  opposing  force,  and  thus 
arrive  at  the  first  condition  of  matter.  It  is  well  to  repeat 
that  it  is  through  muscular  sensations,  with  the  attention 
and  will  which  they  involve,  that  we  come  to  have  the  idea 
both  of  mental  and  of  physical  force. ^ 

Presentative  Element  In  Muscular  Sensations.  Com- 
bined with  touch,  the  muscular  sense  affords  us  knowledge 
of  extension  and  force.  Sensations  of  contact,  as  will  be 
seen  below,  repeated  on  successive  portions  of  the  skin  or 
by  the  same  portion  on  different  parts  of  the  object,  present 
data  for  the  projection  of  a  flat  surface.  It  is  by  pressure 
added  to  these  sensations  that  we  come  to  apprehend  depth. 
It  is  sufficient  to  remark  this  here,  reserving  its  further  dis- 
cussion for  the  section  on  the  perception  of  space.  Mr. 
Spencer,  speaking  of  the  sensation  of  resistance  as  involv- 
ing that  of  effort,  says  :  "  This  sensation  is  at  the  bottom 
of  our  conception  of  the  material  universe,  for  extension  is 
(as  apprehended)  only  a  combination  of  resistances  ;  move- 
ment is  the  generalization  of  a  certain  order  of  resistances  ; 
and  resistance  is  also  the  substance  of  force."  ^ 

Taken  alone  the  muscular  sensations  give  us  little  knowl- 
edge. We  know  from  them  the  location  and  movements 
of  larger  or  smaller  masses  of  the  body  ;  but  even  this 
knowledge  is  very  vague,  since   without  touch  and  sight 

^  Ou  the  importance  of  feelings  of  resistance  see  Spencer,  Psycliol- 
ogy,  ii.  chap.  xvii. 

*  For  greater  detail  on  the  mechanism  of  the  muscular  sense  see 
my  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  chap.  vii.  §  o,  with  the  references 
also  at  the  end  of  vol.  ii.  chap.  iv. 

'^  Loc.  cit. 


10-2  SENSATION. 

tliesG  movements  cannot  be  well  co-ordinatetl,  nor  their 
amounts  estimated. 

Nervous  Sensations.  Under  this  heading  we  have  to 
consider  the  forms  of  sensibilitj^  shown  by  the  nerves  them- 
selves ;  they  are  in  so  far  strongly  contrasted  with  the 
foregoing  classes,  since  in  the  case  of  the*  organic,  cutaneous, 
and  muscular  feelings,  the  nerve  conducts  the  sensation 
from  some  other  organ  or  part  of  the  body. 

In  the  first  place,  the  nerves  are  capable  of  the  most 
acute  pain.  And  nervous  pain  seems  to  have  a  more  posi- 
tive and,  in  consequence,  more  agonizing  character  than 
pain  from  other  kinds  of  tissue.  A  variety  of  feelings  arise 
also  from  a  nerve  when  it  is  subjected  to  pressure.  If  a 
small  band  of  rubber  be  stretched  around  the  upper  arm, 
these  sensations  are  brought  into  consciousness  :  namely,  a 
tingling  in  the  extremities,  the  peculiar  sense  of  a  limb's 
being  "  asleep,''''  and  finally  numbness.  The  same  class  of 
sensations  follow  from  the  mechanical  stimulus  of  the  nerve 
trunks  in  the  stumps  of  amputated  limbs.  Another  series 
of  sensations  depend  upon  the  condition  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem as  a  whole.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned  nervous 
shock,  exaltation,  and  depression.  Then  there  are  states  of 
nervous  hypergesthesia,  or  restlessness,  so-called  "  nervous- 
ness." Other  conditions  bring  on  feelings  of  alarm,  dan- 
ger, and  anxiet}^ 

Further,  electrical  stimulation  of  the  nerves  causes  an- 
other series  of  feelings,  wliat  we  may  call  electrical  sensa- 
tions: peculiar  tingling  in  tlie  organ,  a  JcnocTcing  sensation, 
or  longitudinal  feeling  of  collision,  such  as  tlie  sensation 
in  the  elbows  when  a  mild  electrical  stimulation  passes 
through  the  arms.  Further,  electrical  stimuli  are  capable 
of  rapid  summation,  and  give  rise  to  the  most  excruciating 
pains. 

Physiological  Proof  of  Distinct  Common  Sensations. 
That  these  general  divisions  of  common  sensibility  have, 
at  least  in  part,  a  physiological  differentiation  is  shown  by 


WEBER S  LAW.  103 

the  possibility  of  tlestroj'ing  certain  of  them  without  im- 
pairing otiiers.  Under  progressive  an:eniia,  or  loss  of 
blood,  they  are  lost  in  the  order  named — those  named  sub- 
sequently t>  any  ])articular  one  remaining  intact  when  that 
one  and  those  named  before  it  are  destroyed — namely, 
delicacy  or  co-ordination  of  movement,  delicacy  of  touch, 
pain,  voluntary  movement,  electric  feelings,  muscular  irri- 
tability. 

From  this  general  survey  of  sensation,  in  respect  to 
quality,  the  distinction  between  affective  and  presentative 
elements  in  sensation  is  more  clear.  In  each  sense  when 
the  affective  element  is  strong  the  presentative  is  faint. 
When  a  very  bright  light  strikes  the  eye  it  produces  a 
strong  affective  sensation,  but  vision  is  indistinct.  On  the 
contrary,  when  we  read  printed  words  they  represent 
thought,  but  are  onh^  slightly  affective.  The  case  is  the 
same  with  sound  and  touch. 

§  6.  Quantity  of  Sensation  :    Psychophysics. 

Weber's  Law.  By  quantity  is  meant  intensity  or  mass. 
Until  quite  recently  it  was  considered  impossible  to  meas- 
ure intensities  in  sensation,  from  the  fact  that  they  are 
subjective  entirely  and  we  have  no  abiding  internal  meas- 
ure to  which  to  refer  them.  Tliis  difficulty  has  been  par- 
tially overcome  b}'^  establishing  an  external  unit  of  meas- 
urement, and  comparing  sensations  through  it  with  one 
another.  A  relative  measurement  is  in  this  way  attained. 
Tliis  external  standard  is  the  quantity  of  stimulus  agreed 
upon  as  producing  a  unit  of  sensation.  The  external  ex- 
citation thus  becomes  the  means  of  approach  to  the 
measurement  of  the  internal  fact.  For  example,  if  the 
sensation  given  by  the  weight  of  one  gram  on  the  back  of 
the  hand  be  taken  as  the  unit  of  sensation  for  pressure, 
other  sensations  can  be  compared  with  it,  in  relation  to 

'  The  student  may  profitably  consult  Ribot's  exposition  of  this 
topic,  German  Psycliology  of  To-day,  p.  134  ff. 


104  SE]\^SATTO]\''. 

their  respective  excitations,  Tliis  procedure  has  actually 
been  carried  out  in  those  of  tlie  senses  most  accessible  to 
experiment  and  the  following  law  formulated,  known  as 
Weber's  laio :  In  order  that  any  sensatio?i  may  increase 
hy  quantities  always  equal,  the  excitation  must  be  increased 
by  a  constant  fraction  of  the  excitation  itself ;  or,  the  ex- 
citation must  groio  in  geometrical  jjrogression  (1,  2,  4,  8) 
in  order  that  the  sensation  grow  in  arithmetical  progres- 
sion (1,  2,  3,  4)/  or  yet  again,  the  sensation  varies  as  tlie 
logarithm  of  the  excitation.^ 

Besides  its  application  to  the  regular  sense  perceptions, 
Weber's  law  applies,  with  the  same  limitations,  to  the  esti- 
mation of  linear  distance  and  to  the  judgment  of  the  flight 
of  small  portions  of  time.  In  order  that  I  may  judge  a  line 
twice  as  long  as  another  it  must  be  really  more  than  twice 

'  Fechner.  In  arriving  at  this  law  it  was  necessary  to  show  that  the 
sinallest  perceptible  difference  between  two  sensations  of  the  same  sense 
requires  a  constant  fractional  increase  of  the  smaller  excitation.  This 
has  been  shown  with  reasonable  exactness  for  moderate  degrees  of  in- 
tensity of  sensations  of  sight  (ylff),  touch  (i),  and  sound  0.  In  deal- 
ing with  high  intensities  the  proper  working  of  the  organ  is  deranged 
and  the  results  vitiated  ;  as  with  very  bright  lights.  In  the  case  of 
taste  and  smell  the  difficulties  of  isolating  the  sensation  and  measuring 
the  amount  of  the  stimulus  have  been  almost  insurmountable.  Three 
distinct  methods  of  arriving  at  the  smallest  perceptible  difference  of 
sensation  are  employed,  all  of  which  depend  upon  the  subjective 
estimate  of  the  person  experimented  with  as  to  the  equality  of  two 
stimuli,  such  as  weights  or  lights.     (See  Ladd,  loc.  cit.,  p.  364.) 

The  scale  of  sensation  values  has  its  zero  or  vanishing  point  at  the 
smallest  perceptible  sensation  for  each  of  the  senses.  Hence  the  neces- 
sity of  instituting  another  series  of  experiments  on  all  the  senses  to 
discover  this  value.  The  point  at  which  a  growing  excitation  first 
begins  to  be  felt  as  a  sensation  is  called  the  threshold  value  of  the 
excitation  and  the  sensation  is  said  to  be  at  the  threshold.  This 
point  varies  very  greatly  according  to  the  conditions  of  the  senses 
as  to  exhaustion,  and  the  state  of  the  mind,  as  preoccupied  or 
attentive. 

Upon  these  two  classes  of  data,  smallest  perceptible  difference  of 
sansations  and  smallest  perceptible  sensation,  the  logarithmic  law  of 


r 


EXTEKSITT  OF  SENSATION.  105 

as  long  ;  and  in  estimating  five  seconds  I  make  the  time 
too  sliort  by  about  one-fourth/ 

The  interpretation  of  Weber's  law  has  occasioned  much 
discussion.  How  are  we  to  construe  the  fact  that  the  sen- 
sation, which  must  be  considered  as  effect,  does  not  increase 
proportionally  to  the  stimulus,  which  is  cause  ?  The 
answer  probably  is  that  the  disproportion  is  due  to  the  loss 
of  excitation  energy  in  the  phj'siological  processes  involved, 
the  processes  of  transmission  by  the  nerves  and  of  central 
stimulation.  This  makes  the  central  process  the  cause  of 
the  sensation,  instead  of  the  peripheral  process,  and  the 
law  of  causation  liolds. 

Extensive  or  Massive  Sensations.  The  quantity  of 
sensation,  considered  as  intensity  or  ititensive  masSy  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  its  quantity  considered  as  extensity  or 
extensive  massive^iess.  If  I  paste  one  postage  stamp  on  my 
hand  and  then  another  beside  it,  tlie  sensation  is  increased 
in  the  second  case  in  extensive  massiveness,  but  not  in 
intensity.  This  distinction  in  quantity  is  possible  only 
when  there  are  coexistent  sensations  of  the  same  sense 
wliicli  do  not  coalesce  to  produce  a  higlier  intensity.  It 
seems  to  depend  upon  an  extensive  organ  of  stimulation, 
skin,  retina,  which  is  stimulated  over  a  more  or  less  ex- 
tended  area.     It  is  experienced   in  putting  the    hand  in 

Fechner  is  based.  Assuming  that  the  differences  of  sensation  to  he 
barely  perceived  are  infinitesimal  quantities,  and  that  the  difference 
in  the  excitation  is  also  Infinitely  small,  as  compared  with  the  whole 
stimulus,  we  ma}\  by  the  calculus,  equate  differentials  and  write 
(making  ds  Increment  of  sensation,  de  increment  of  excitation,  and  k 
the  proportional  constant) 

d8  =  k^, 

e 
whence,  by  integration,  8  =  k  log  e  ; 

or,  the  sensation  varies  as  the  logarithm  of  the  excitation.  The 
threshold  value  then  being  given,  the  scale  is  built  up. 

'  This  can  be  readily  shown  by  counting  seconds  with  the  eyes  on 
the  second-hand  of  a  watch,  and  then  attempting  to  repeat  it  with  the 
eyes  closed.     Below  one  second  the  time  is  judged  too  long. 


106  SENSAriOK. 

water,  or  in  hearing,  at  the  same  time,  a  continued  musical 
note  and  a  harsh  noise.  The  difference  between  the  two 
kinds  of  increase  in  sensation  is  distinct  enough  to  require 
separate  mention.  That  it  is  found  equally  in  connection 
with  some  of  the  non-spatial  senses,^  however,  seems  to  be 
sufficient  proof  that  it  is  not  an  immediate  datum  of  space- 
knowledge,  rs  some  would  have  it.  It  is  probable  that 
distinctions  of  extensity  are  as  fundamental  as  those  of 
intensity,  and  that  they  represent  one  of  tlie  first  reactions 
of  consciousness  upon  a  nervous  arrangement  which  has 
been  perfected  through  former  race  development  and  in- 
heritance. 

§  7.  Duration  of  Sensation  and  Thought  : 
psyciiometry. 

Since  the  discoveries  of  Helmholtz  and  others,  as  to  the 
velocity  of  nerve  transmission,  it  has  become  possible  to 
arrive  at  a  determination  of  the  time  necessary  for  differ- 
ent sensations  and  for  some  of  the  simpler  apperceptive 
processes. 

I.  Beginning  with  simple  sensation  the  case  is  briefly 
this  :  let  the  skin  of  a  man  in  normal  conditions  be  pricked 
and  let  him  speak  as  soon  as  the  pain  is  felt,  or  let  a  word 
be  spoken  and  let  the  subject  press  a  button  as  soon  as  he 
hears  it.  The  period  that  elapses  between  the  two  events, 
in  any  such  experiment  arranged  for  two  senses,  is  called 
the  simple  reaction  time  and  varies  from  i  to  ^  second,  ac- 
cording to  the  individual  and  according  to  the  conditions 
of  the  experiment. 

Upon  consideration,  it  is  readily  seen  that  thi«  period 
may  be  divided  into  three  parts  :  first,  the  stimulation  of 
the  sense  organ  and  sensor  nerve  transmission  to  the  brain 
center  ;  second,  the  mental  process  of  sensation,  discrimi- 
nation, and  volition,  etc.  ;  and  third,  motor  transmission 
and  stimulation  of  the  organ  moved.  Now  since  the  veloc- 
'  Stumpf  finds  original  exteusity  in  sound-tones. 


ITS  DURATION.  107 

ity  in  both  the  motor  and  sensor  nerves  is  known,  we  reach 
by  subtraction  the  time  of  tlie  mental  act.  Instruments 
are  used  by  means  of  which  differences  to  the  ten-thou- 
sandth of  a  second  are  noted.  By  this  analysis  of  the 
simple  reaction  time  we  arrive  at  two  general  principles  : 

a.  The  simplest  mental  act  occupies  an  appreciable  period 
of  time. 

h.  The  purely  physiological  or  transmission  time  is  less 
than  half  of  the  entire  reaction.^  Consequently  the  time 
taken  up  by  the  sensation  and  motor  impulse  varies  slightly 
either  way  from  ^^  second.  Tliis  cannot  be  called  purely 
mental  time,  however,  for  the  central  physical  change  goes 
on  at  the  same  time. 

An  easy  way  to  get  an  approximate  value  for  the  simple 
reaction  is  to  request  a  class  of  students  to  stand  in  line, 
each  grasping  hands  in  turn  with  his  neighbor.  When  the 
Hue  is  complete  let  an  outsider  give  a  signal  "now"  at 
a  given  position  of  the  second-hand  of  his  watch.  At  the 
signal  the  student  first  in  line  presses  the  hand  of  the  next, 
and  so  on,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  down  the  line,  the  last  stu- 
dent calling  "  now  "  the  instant  his  hand  is  pressed.  At  this 
second  "  now  "  the  outsider  again  notes  his  watch.  Now 
if  the  entire  number  of  seconds  elapsed  be  divided  by  the 
number  in  line  plus  two  (the  outsider  reacts  twice),  the  re- 
sult will  be  the  reaction  time  for  one  student. 

II.  Passing  from  sensation  to  the  reproduction  of  ideas 
as  memory  pictures,  it  is  concluded  from  experiments  con- 
ducted similarly  : 

a.  The  time  occupied  in  the  reproduction  of  a  state  of 
consciousness  is  longer  than  the  time  of  its  production. 

b.  The  time  of  reproduction  depends  inversely  upon  tlie 
degree  of  attention  given  (l)  to  the  original  sensation,  (2) 
to  the  reproduction. 

^  This  was  conjectured  by  Darwin  from  the  fact  that  we  wink  the 
eyes  without  having  a  change  of  sensation  from  light  to  darkness  — 
Zodnomia.  1.  p.  24. 


108  sensation: 

III.  A  tliird  operation  on  wliich  many  experiments  have 
been  made  is  that  of  distinction  or  discrimination.  To  ex- 
periment upon  sigljt,  let  two  colored  lights  be  shown,  the 
subject  understanding  that  he  is  to  react  by  speaking  or 
pressing  a  button  only  when  he  sees  the  color  agreed  upon 
beforehand.  This  involves  first  a  comparison  and  then  a 
judgment,  with  volition.  The  entire  time  is  found  to  be 
about  i  to  J  second.  Bj^  an  easy  process  the  purely  physio- 
logical time  is  eliminated,  and  the  duration  of  the  mental 
act  is  found  to  be  -^^  second  (Kries)  to  J^-  second  (Wundt). 
The  discrimination  is  easier  when  the  sensation  is  of  hio^li 
intensity ;  and  since,  in  all  reactions,  the  signal  must  be 
discriminated  from  other  sensations  in  consciousness,  we 
have  the  principle  that  loithin  certain  limits  the  duration 
varies  iiwersely  as  the  strength  of  the  stimulus. 

IV.  Experiment  has  rendered  service,  also,  in  defining 
and  confirming  the  laws  of  association.  The  time  of  a 
simple  association  is  found  to  be  f  second  to  -|  second. 
Repetition  greatly  shortens  the  time  by  strengthening 
the  association. 

V.  A  fifth  class  of  experiments  relates  to  the  logical 
judgment  of  subordination,  ^.  e.,from  genus  to  species.  It 
is  found  that  the  time  is  longest  when  the  subject  is  abstract 
and  the  predicate  a  more  general  notion  (man  is  intelli- 
gent), shortest  when  the  subject  is  concrete  and  the  predi- 
cate a  less  general  notion  (the  house  is  red).  The  average 
of  a  great  number  of  experiments  gives  the  time  about  one 
second  Thic  is  important  as  illustrating  the  growth  of  the 
general  and  abstract  notion  from  the  concrete,  and  indicates 
that  the  order  of  instruction  of  children  should  be  the  same. 

It  should  be  said  that  these  results,  which  are  not  in- 
tended here  to  be  exhaustive,  are  true  only  in  an 
average  sense  and  under  normal  conditions  ;  and  further, 
that  they  represent  only  a  single  tj^pe  of  our  everyday 
mental  processes,  that  of  more  or  less  concentrated  at- 
tention and  expectation.     The  fact  that  the  subject  of  the 


EFFECTS  OF  ATTENTION.  109 

experiment  must  take  part  in  tlie  arrangements  and  concert 
his  actions  with  those  of  others  makes  it  impossible  to  obtain 
results  without  the  attention.  In  life,  however,  most  of  our 
actions  are  not  foreseen,  and  our  attention  is  drawn  to  sen- 
sations by  their  occurrence,  not  beforehand.  The  degree  of 
attention,  however,  may  be  somewhat  varied  and  the  results 
noted.  The  boilily  states  also  greatly  influence  the  duration 
of  mental  acts.  Fatigue  and  other  unusual  physical  con- 
ditions tend  to  lengthen  the  reaction  time.  The  senses 
with  which  the  most  exact  results  have  been  obtained  are 
sight,  hearing,  and  touch,  the  most  presentative  senses  : 
with  taste  and  smell  the  mechanical  difficulties  are  very 
great.  In  dreams,  the  ascertained  durations  do  not  seem 
to  hold,  since  the  flow  of  presentations  then  takes  on,  in 
many  cases,  enormous  rapidity.' 

Effect  of  Attention  upon  the  Duration  and  Quantity  of 
Sensation.  We  have  already  noted  the  general  law  that 
attention  increases  the  intensity  of  sensations.  It  is  at 
once  seen  that  this  principle  interferes  with  the  application 
of  Weber's  law,  since  a  given  stimulus  is  felt  more  strongly 
if  attended  to  than  otherwise  :  so  that  in  comparing  sensa- 
tions by  their  excitations  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the  atten- 
tion constant  in  the  two  cases.  The  effects  of  attention 
upon  the  duration  of  sensations  is  even  more  marked.  In 
general,  attention  dlmuiishes  the  time  necessary  for  the  re- 
action. The  shortest  times  are  obtained  by  concentrating 
the  attention.  To  such  an  extent  may  this  give  rise  to  ex- 
pectation of  the  excitation  that  it  is  sometimes  anticipated, 
the  reaction  of  the  hand,  for  example,  being  given  before 
the  signal  is  made.  In  the  hypnotic  state,  where  the  at- 
tention is  strongly  fixed,  the  time  is  shortened.     This  con- 

'  For  attempts  to  determine  the  perception,  apperception,  and  will 
time  separately,  see  references  given  by  Ladd,  Elements  of  Physi- 
ological Psychology,  chap.  viii.  Otlier  accessible  resumes  are  Ribot, 
German  Psyclwlogy  of  To-day,  p.  250  ff.,  and  Jastrow,  Time  Relations 
of  Mental  PJienomena. 


110  SENSATION. 

centration  is  especially  necessary  at  first,  before  the  mus- 
cular reaction  becomes  automatic,  for  practice  shortens  the 
reaction  time. 

Further,  according  as  the  attention  is  given  to  the  ex- 
pected stimulus  (touch,  sound,  etc.)  or  to  the  reacting  organ 
(finger,  in  pressing  a  button,  etc.),  we  have  important  vari- 
ations in  the  time.  In  the  former  case  the  reaction  is  called 
sensory,  in  the  latter  case  motor.  In  the  "  sensory  "  form 
of  reaction  the  time  is  about  one-half  longer  than  in  the 
"motor"  form. 

Effect  of  Duration  upon  the  Intensity  of  Sensation. 
Within  short  periods  the  intensity  of  a  sensation  is  di- 
minished if  its  stimulus  be  continued.  This  arises  from 
the  accommodation  of  the  organ  to  the  stimulus.  It  ap- 
plies especially  to  slight  pleasurable  or  painful  stimuli. 
Long  continued  stimulation,  however,  from  exhaustion 
of  the  organ,  becomes  increasingly  intense  and  painful ; 
and  sensations  at  first  pleasurable  become  painful  under 
this  condition. 

§  8.  Tone   of   Sexsatiox. 

By  the  "  hedonic  tone  "  of  sensation  is  meant  the  feeling 
of  pleasure  or  pain  w^hich  accompanies  it.  It  represents 
somewhat  in  all  sensations,  and  in  the  higher  senses  almost 
entirely,  the  affective  element.  Pleasure  and  pain  are  only 
and  wholly  affective.  Our  whole  sensational  experience  is 
accompanied  by  pleasure  and  pain  and  so  has  tone.* 

*  For  detailed  treatment  see  below,  chap.  xvii. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PERCEPTION. 
§  1.  Definition  of  Perception. 

The  theory  of  perception  is  perhaps  the  most  important 
as  well  as  the  most  difficult  problem  of  psychology.  The 
interpretation  of  the  higher  processes  of  mind  rests  upon  it 
and  it  underlies  the  body  of  our  general  philosophy.  The 
great  philosophies  of  the  world  take  their  rise  from  initial 
differences  in  the  method  of  construing  perception.  Leav- 
ing the  general  problems  of  the  theory  of  knowledge  to 
metaphysics,  we  have  to  do  only  with  the  process  of  percep- 
tion, considered  as  an  operation  of  mind  in  attaining  knowl- 
edge of  the  external  world.  That  is,  we  have  to  answer 
the  simple  question,  "  How  do  we  arrive  at  the  knowledge 
of  individual  objects  localized  in  space  and  time  ? "  In 
view  of  the  terms  of  this  question  and  of  the  analysis 
which  follows,  we  may  define  perception  in  a  general  way. 

Perception  is  the  apperceptive  or  synthetic  process  of  mind 
ichereby  the  data  of  sensation  take  on  the  forms  of  represen- 
tation in  space  and  time :  or,  considered  more  with  reference 
to  things  external  to  us,  it  is  the  process  of  the  construction 
of  our  representation  of  the  external  world. 

§  2.  Analysis  of  Perception. 

A  little  reflection  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  our  percep- 
tion of  the  external  world  is  a  matter  of  mental  construc- 
tion. All  advance  into  the  region  of  mind  must  be  through 
mental  states.  The  characteristic  of  mind  is  consciousness, 
and  nothing  can  enter  the  domain  of  mind  except  through 
the  mediation  of  consciousness.  This  is  seen  in  the  fact 
that  our  images  play  in  consciousness  in  such  a  way  as 

111 


112  PERCEPTION. 

sometimes  to  deceive  us  in  regard  to  the  external  world. 
When  the  eye  is  deranged  the  mind  is  deceived  in  regard 
to  colors  and  distances.  When  we  have  a  cold  our  taste  is 
impaired.  When  the  hand  is  amputated  irritation  of  the 
nerve  ends  is  still  localized  in  the  hand.  This  amounts  to 
saying  that  the  mental  picture  which  in  every  case  is  nec- 
essary to  tlie  perception  of  the  object,  is  impaired  or  dissi- 
pated. The  nervous  system  also  intervenes  between  the 
mind  and  the  world,  and  the  proper  activity  of  mind  in 
representation  depends  upon  the  normal  functioning  of  this 
system.  This  fact,  that  the  mind  deals  with  its  images 
primarily  and  with  external  realities  only  through  these 
images,  is  best  seen  when  we  consider  that  all  mental  states 
are  modifications  of  consciousness  itself,  and  that  the  per- 
ception of  the  external  world,  however  real  that  world  be, 
with  its  conditions  of  space  and  time,  is  possible  only  by 
some  process  of  mind  whereby  these  conditions  can  be 
mentally  reconstructed  and  the  intensive  data  of  experience 
cast  in  the  forms  of  this  reconstruction. 

It  is  the  business  of  a  theory  of  perception  also  to  tell 
how  we  come  to  have  the  presentative  or  knowledge  ele- 
ment pointed  out  in  sensation.  Space,  time,  force,  etc.,  were 
recognized  as  such  elements  ;  in  perception  we  find  the 
process  by  which  sensations  come  to  take  on  these  forms. 

The  construction  of  the  representation  of  the  external 
world  has  three  stages  which  we  may  call,  respectively, 
Differentiation,  Localization,  and  Sense- Intuition. 

§  3.  Differentiation. 

The  beginning  of  all  life  experience  is  probably,  as  has 
been  already  said,  a  state  of  general  undifferentiated  feel- 
ing. This  state  of  things  has  been  described  briefly  in  the 
section  on  the  growth  of  consciousness.  There  are,  at  this 
beginning  of  sensation,  no  distinct  forms  for  the  different 
senses,  no  notion  of  externality,  no  perception  either  of 
one's  own  body  or  of  tilings.     It  is  easy  to  imagine  one's 


LOCALIZATION.  113 

self  in  that  condition.  All  plu^sical  feeling  is  then  vague, 
like  the  internal  sensations  which  we  cannot  localize  nor 
trace  to  their  causes.  It  is  probable  that  the  muscular  sense, 
with  touch,  constitutes  almost  the  whole  of  this  experience. 
The  earliest  transition  from  this  state  of  general  sensation 
is  also  probably  due  to  touch  and  the  muscular  sense, 
tlirough  differences  of  intensity  in  feelings  of  resistance, 
and  through  the  sense  of  locality  in  the  body.  The  special 
oi-gans  of  the  other  senses  are  more  complex  and  must, be 
adapted  to  their  function  of  reporting  impressions  from 
without.  Yet  no  step  toward  a  real  differentiation  of  sensa- 
tions can  take  place  till  a  reaction  of  consciousness  is  possible 
in  the  shape  of  attention.  As  has  been  seen,  definite  sensa- 
tions as  such  are  not  distinguished  without  attention.  At 
first  this  attention  is  reflex.  But  by  it  the  unordered 
and  chaotic  mass  of  sensation,  which  is  thrown  ujjon  the 
helpless  individual,  is  divided,  and  distinguished.  As  this 
differentiation  proceeds,  each  sense  becomes  a  distinct 
source  of  affective  experience,  somewhat  in  the  following 
order  of  development :  muscular  sense,  touch,  temperature, 
light,  sound,  taste,  smell,  color.  The  mere  fact  of  differen- 
tiation, however,  can  gi\  e  us  no  sense  of  difference  between 
our  own  body  and  a  foreign  body.  This  distinction  can 
arise  only  after  we  begin  to  localize  our  states  ;  and  even 
then  all  these  states  are  located  first  in  the  bodily  organs. 

§  4.  Localization. 

Another  aspect  of  the  synthesis  w^hich  is  called  perception 
is  localization.  By  this  is  meant  the  mental  reference  of 
sensations  to  a  locality  in  space.  "  Things,"  as  we  perceive 
them,  are  always  in  space.  Here  is  a  new  idea  or  form,  of 
w^hich,  in  the  purely  intensive  character  that  sensation  at 
first  presents,  we  find  no  intimation.  Whence  does  it  arise, 
and  to  what  factor  in  the  perceiving  process  is  it  due  ? 
This  is  the  question  of  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  space  : 
one  of  the  problems  most  discussed  in  general  philosophy, 


114  PERCEPTION. 

and  one  to  which  contemporary  psychology  is  full}^  alive. 
With  the  farther  metaphysical  question,  What  is  space  ? 
we  are  not  concerned. 

The  Perception  of  Space.  It  is  generally  agreed  by 
psychologists  that  our  first  experiences  of  space  are  con- 
nected with  the  muscular  and  touch  sensations  of  our  own 
body.  As  has  been  said,  the  sensory  content,  before  all 
differentiation,  is  largely  muscular.  The  beginnings  of 
differentiation  seem  at  once  to  implicate  the  extensive  or 
massive  quality  of  sensation.  There  is  a  vague  feeling  of 
whereness  in  this  early  muscular  sensation,  and  it  becomes 
more  definite  as  the  extensive  or  spread-out  sensations  from 
the  skin  become  broken  up  in  localities.  But  at  this  begin- 
ning of  space  experience  the  question  confronts  us  :  How 
can  excitations  of  the  skin  and  muscles,  which  are  trans- 
mitted in  the  form  of  molecular  action  through  the  nerve 
substance,  and  which  have  thereby  lost  their  local  coloring, 
report  their  locality  to  the  subject  ?  and  further,  how,  if 
they  preserve  this  local  coloring  in  such  a  way  as  to  present 
specific  differences  of  motion  at  tlie  central  bureau,  can 
these  differences  be  reported  to  the  mind,  which  is  a  con- 
scious presence,  not  itself  spread  out  in  space  ? 

Tliere  is  only  one  answer  wliich  does  not  either  beg  the 
question  at  issue  or  overlook  some  one  of  its  essential  con- 
ditions ;  ^.  e..  The  mind  has  a  native  and  original  capacity 
of  reacting,  when  certain  physiological  data  are  present , 
in  such  a  way  that  the  objects  which  serve  to  stimulate  it 
appear  under  the  form  of  space. 

Data  for  the  Perception  of  Space.  In  the  perception 
of  space  relations  by  the  muscular  sense,  touch,  and  sight, 
the  three  senses  through  wliich  it  is  accomplished,  two 
classes  of  data  seem  to  be  involved.  Tiiese  data  are  of  a 
ph^^sical  kind  and  serve  as  basis  for  the  mental  reaction 
just  spoken  of.  They  are  muscular  movements  and  local 
signs. 

I.  Muscular  Movement,      Under  the  discussion  of  the 


IDEA    OF  SPACE,  115 

muscular  sense,  the  twofold  nature  of  the  sensations  in- 
volved was  spoken  of.  Sensations  of  "  effort  "  were  dis- 
tinguished from  sensations  of  "  resistance."  Both  of  these 
seem  necessary  to  the  finished  feeling  of  movement,  though 
feelings  of  resistance  play  a  predominating  role.  We  learn 
from  pathological  cases  that  if  the  feeling  of  resistance  be 
destroyed,  a  limb  may  be  moved  voluntarily,  but  there  may 
be  no  knowledge  of  the  actual  movement  and,  consequently, 
no  indication  of  space  position.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  movement  of  a  limb  mechanically  is  felt  as  movement 
when  there  is  no  voluntary  motor  discharge.  Hence, 
whether  we  hold  that  space  is  a  succession  of  resistances? 
or  that  space  is  an  original  element  in  the  muscular  experi- 
ence, we  still  find  the  element  of  muscular  resistance  in  our 
first  sensations  of  locality.  AVe  see  below  that  movement 
enters  in  the  perception  both  of  tactual  and  of  visual  space. 
Inasmuch  as  feelings  of  resistance  involve  touch  as  well  as 
pure  muscular  experience,  the  second  of  our  data,  the 
local  sUjn,  is  brought  into  play. 

II.  Local  Sign.  By  local  signs  are  meant  specific  local 
differences  in  the  arrangement  (Lotze)  or  structure  (Wundt) 
of  the  elements  in  the  skin.  By  reason  of  these  differences 
localities  partake  in  perception  of  the  position  they  occupy 
in  space.  I  refer  an  excitation  to  my  hand  or  foot ;  why 
do  I  give  it  such  a  specific  reference  ?  Why  do  I  locate  a 
pain  in  my  right  hand  rather  than  in  my  left  ?  Simultaneous 
sensations  of  a  purely  intensive  nature,  as  tastes,  sounds, 
are  fused  together  ;  but  simultaneous  sensations  from 
neighboring  points  of  the  skin  and  retina  preserve  their 
peculiar  character  and  relation  to  one  another,  and  we  dis- 
tinguish different  localities  because  the  sensations  from 
them  are  really  different.  As  has  been  said,  the  first  idea 
of  our  own  body  results  from  muscular  sensations  w^hich 
arise  from  early  movements,  and  these  sensations  are  vague 
and  confused  ;  yet  even  here  the  feeling  of  extension  is 
present,  also  vague  and  confused.     Whence  comes  it  ?     It 


116  PERCEPTION. 

can  only  come  from  initial  differences  of  some  kind  which  are 
perpetuated  through  transmission  to  the  brain.  These  differ- 
ences, probably  in  the  skin  or  sensor  nerves,  and  possibly  a 
matter  largely  of  association,  afford  a  second  datum  for  the 
localization  of  sensations  in  different  portions  of  the  body. 
The  theory  of  local  signs  was  first  propounded  by  Lotze, 
who,  however,  varied  it  in  its  application  to  different  orders 
of  sensation.  For  sight  he  made  the  local  sign  consist  in 
the  fixed  amount  of  muscular  movement  which  any  retinal 
point  must  undergo  to  be  brought  into  the  line  of  clearest 
vision.  Tliis  is  a  different  and  definite  quantity  for  every 
point  in  the  retina.  In  the  skin  the  local  sign,  for  Lotze, 
was  the  combination  of  light  accessory  sensations  which 
are  provoked  in  immediate  connection  with  the  point  of 
contact.  There  would  be  a  varying  amount  of  radiation  of 
stimulus  in  the  skin  according  to  the  varjdng  structural 
consistency  of  the  parts  over  which  the  skin  is  stretched, 
as  bone,  nmscle,  ligament.  This  hypothesis  found  devel- 
opment in  the  more  natural  position  that  the  local  sign 
was  an  implanted  peculiarity  in  the  structure  of  the  skin 
itself.  A  further  theory,  very  w^idely  adopted,  and  sug- 
gested by  Czermak,  makes  the  local  distinctions  in  the  skin 
due  to  the  ramifications  of  the  spread-out  nerve  fibrils,  each 
such  nerve  end  reacting  for  its  own  position  and  being  thus 
a  local  sign.  This  position  is  most  probable.  It  is  supported 
by  the  fact  already  cited,  that  the  sensibility  of  the  skin  to 
local  differences  varies  greatly  in  different  parts  of  the 
body,  and  may  be  increased  by  the  fixing  of  the  attention, 
by  exercise,  and  in  the  hypnotic  state.  These  latter  condi- 
tions tend  to  bring  into  play  finer  elements  of  the  ramify- 
ing nerve,  and  thus  to  diminish  the  distance  between  the 
sensitive  points.  And  the  same  facts  tend  to  refute  the 
theory  that  the  units  of  tactual  feeling  are  found  in 
Weber's  "  circles  of  sensation."  ' 

•  On  the  genercal  theory  of  local  signs  see  liibot,  German  Psychol, 
of/y  of  To-day,  chaps,  iii.  und  iv. 


IDEA    OF  fiPACE.  Ill 

iJusidc'S  the  i^eneral  coiisideratioii  that  some  SJicli  liypoth- 
esis  as  that  of  local  signs  is  necessaiy  to  the  case,  there  is 
direct  evidence  of  the  existence  of  these  signs.  Tlie  fact 
of  varying  local  discrimination  in  the  skin  has  been  men- 
tioned ;  it  is  also  true  of  the  retina.  The  relative  discrim- 
ination of  localities  grows  less  delicate  as  we  proceed 
fi*om  the  center  to  the  edge  of  the  retina.  The  quality  of 
massiveness  or  extensity  of  sensations  of  touch  and  sight 
depends  upon  the  simultaneous  independent  excitation  of 
units  of  sensation,  and  can  be  accounted  for  only  on  the 
assumption  of  some  characteristic  by  which  these  units  are 
kept  distinct.  If  the  skin  of  the  forehead  be  bent  down 
upon  the  nose  and  grow  there,  its  irritation  is  felt  still  at 
the  foreliead.  Tlie  same  is  seen  in  the  retina  in  certain 
pathological  affections,  in  whicli  the  retinal  elements  are 
displaced  :  the  irritating  points  of  light  falling  upon  these 
elements  are  localized  where  they  would  be  seen  by 
the  healthy  eye. 

Synthesis  of  Data.  But  the  fact  of  local  signs,  taken 
in  connection  with  muscular  sensations,  is  not  sufficient  to 
account  for  the  perception  of  space.  Wliatever  these  signs 
be,  the  local  color  or  tone  they  give  is  a  modification  in 
quality  alone,  or  an  intensive  change  in  the  sensation  in 
question,  and  there  still  remains  the  necessity  for  a  mental 
reaction  whereby  this  intensive  sensation,  modification,  or 
sign  is  construed  in  extensive  form.  How  can  we  infer 
differences  of  external  position  from  differences  in  our 
feelings  ?  Let  a  sensation  of  red  be  modified  in  any  wa}'' 
whatever  as  to  its  redness,  and  we  are  still  absolutely  in 
the  dark  as  to  its  location  on  the  right  hand  or  the  left. 
Nor  would  any  number  of  partial  sensations  which  I  dis- 
criminate in  it,  nor  the  order  of  these  partial  sensations  in 
coming  to  me,  tell  me  that  the  colored  object  was  "  round 
like  an  orange  or  a  ball."  Admitting  the  concomitant  sen- 
sations of  Lotze,  one  of  two  things  must  be  true  :  either 
these  concomitant  sensations  co-ordinate  themselves  in  space 


118  PERCEPTION. 

ill  virtue  of  their  own  quality  or  they  do  not.  If  they  do 
thus  co-ordinate  themselves,  why  could  not  the  original 
sensations  co-ordinate  themselves?  If  they  do  not  thus 
co-ordinate  themselves,  what  help  are  they  to  us  in  this 
co-ordination  ?  They  must  be  only  data  by  which  the 
co-ordinating  activity  of  mind  proceeds  in  the  matter  of 
space  perception. 

Tactual  Perception  of  Space.  Upon  this  basis  the 
mental  reconstruction  of  spatial  position  proceeds  in  the 
case  of  touch.  Locality  in  the  skin  being  tlius  given,  its 
definition  becomes  very  exact  in  experience.  Feelings  at 
first  vaguely  localized  are  given  precise  spatial  position. 
This  is  rendered  easy  by  the  exploring  power  of  active 
touch.  If  left  to  passive  touch  from  external  objects  it  is 
unlikely  that  we  would  ever  arrive  at  a  clear  conception  of 
the  extent  and  form  of  our  own  bodies.  But  by  free 
movement  of  the  hands,  with  active  touch,  the  relative 
parts  are  explored.  This  is  evident  from  the  fact  that 
localization  is  most  exact  in  the  parts  of  the  body  most 
open  to  active  toucli  and  freest  in  movement,  as  tlie  hand, 
arm,  tongue,  as  contrasted  with  the  back  and  cheeks. 
This  process  is  also  aided  by  our  larger  movements  and 
their  reversal,  and  takes  place  with  rapid  advance  in  early 
childhood. 

Visual  Perception  of  Space.  As  has  been  already  in- 
timated, the  same  data  enter  into  the  visual  perception 
of  space,  muscular  movement,  and  local  sign.  The  evi- 
dence of  the  presence  of  local  signs  in  the  retina  has  also 
been  adduced.  Ever  since  the  time  of  Berkeley^  it  has 
been  generally  admitted  that  the  original  perception  of  the 
eye  is  of  a  colored  surface  only:  that  is,  that  the  eye  has 
no  immediate  perception  of  depth  or  distance.  This  is 
shown  most  decisively  by  cases  in  which  sight  has  been 
restored  to  those  who  were  born  blind.  About  a  dozen 
cases  of  the  removal  of  congenital  cataract  from  the  eyes 
^  Berkeley,  TJceory  of  Vision. 


VISUAL  SPACE!,  119 

of  persons  of  some  age  are  on  record,  the  oldest  and  most 
famous  being  the  Cheselden  case/  In  each  of  these  cases 
the  evidence  is  very  clear.  When  sight  is  restored  the 
patient  sees  everything  in  the  same  plane  :  there  is  no  dis- 
tance, no  relief,  nothing  but  a  colored  surface,  and  this 
surface  seems  to  be  near  the  globe  of  the  eye.  The  blind 
man  on  whom  Clieselden  operated  said  that  objects  touched 
his  eye.  Home's  patient  said  the  same  of  the  sun  and  of 
the  head  of  the  physician.  The  patients  of  Xunnely  and 
Franz  had  the  same  experience. 

The  muscular  movements  of  the  eye  are  of  extreme 
delicacy  and  variety.  Tliere  is  for  every  point  of  the 
retina  a  fixed  amount  and  direction  of  movement  necessary 
to  substitute  for  It  tlie  center  of  clearest  vision  ;  and  when 
such  a  point,  right,  left,  above,  below,  is  excited  there  is 
at  once  a  tendenc}'  to  revolve  the  ball  of  the  eye  in  such 
a  way  as  to  bring  the  center  of  vision  to  this  point.  This 
represents  a  given  degree  of  central  nervous  discharge 
to  bring  about  the  muscular  strain.  Since  movement  of 
tlie  eyes  precedes  vision,  there  are  no  means  whereby  such 
movement  can  be  ruled  out  ;  and  further,  the  influence  it 
exerts  in  localization  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  if  one  of  the 
muscles  of  the  eye  be  destroj^ed,  so  that  no  movement  fol- 
lows its  stimulation,  objects  are  localized  as  if  this  move- 
ment had  taken  place." 

The  necessity  for  a  reaction  of  consciousness  upon  these 
data  is  the  same  as  in  the  case  of  touch.     Sensations  from 

'  See  details  of  Cheselden  and  other  cases  in  McCosh's  PsycJiology, 
vol.  1.  p.  45. 

^  See  references  given  by  Wundt,  Phys.  Psych.,  2d  ed.,ii.  p.  91, 
and  i.  p.  375  :  "  For  instance,  one  suffering  from  paresis  of  the  right 
external  muscle  of  the  eye,  so  that  the  muscle  is  able  by  the  utmost 
effort  to  effect  a  lateral  movement  of  20°,  locates  an  object  which  in 
reality  is  only  20^  distant  from  the  median  plane,  at  a  point  as  far 
outward  as  corresponds  to  the  utmost  outward  movement  of  the 
normal  eye,  and  when  asked  to  touch  the  object  places  his  finger  far 
beyond  it  to  the  right." 


120  PERGUPTtOn. 

the  extended  surface  of  tlie  retina  and  from  its  movements 
over  the  visual  field  can  be  only  intensive  and  qualitative 
modifications  of  consciousness,  which  are  appreliended  under 
space-form  by  the  mind's  own  reconstruction.  The  process 
in  this  case  is  the  same  as  in  touch  with  tlie  muscular  sense. 

Spatial  perception  by  touch  and  the  muscular  sense  pre- 
cedes spatial  perception  by  siglit.  The  idea,  as  a  mental 
acquisition,  is  probably  gained  rouglily  before  we  see  at  all. 
But  this  does  not  impair  the  fact  of  spatial  perception  by 
sight.  Having  the  idea  of  space,  why  do  we  clotlie  the 
data  of  sight  with  this  form,  and  why  do  we  not  thus 
clothe  the  sensations  to  which  we  do  not  assign  a  spatial 
arrangement  ?  Evidently  because  sight  offers  also  the  data 
which  are  necessary  for  the  mental  reconstruction  of  space. 

Perception  of  Foreign  Body.  The  distinction  between 
our  own  and  a  foreign  body  arises  very  early  in  child  life 
and  is  not  subsequent  to  1?iie  completed  idea  of  our  own 
body.  As  we  have  seen,  the  perception  of  our  own  bod}^ 
as  extended  involves  both  distance  or  movement,  and 
resistance.  In  the  primary  feeling  of  resistance  we  have 
the  beginning  of  the  perception  of  foreign  body.  The 
amount  of  movement  or  distance,  measured  in  muscular 
sensation,  indicates  roughly,  at  first,  but  with  great  pre- 
cision later,  the  localities  of  objects  around  us  in  reference 
to  our  own  body.  This  is  greatly  aided  by  active  touch 
and  by  sight.  We  feel  round  a  bod3^  and  give  it  the  third 
dimension,  which  we  have  already  found  to  be  an  attribute 
of  our  own  body.  The  distinction  between  our  own 
members  and  other  objects  is  further  assisted  by  the 
phenomenon  of  double  touch  ;  that  is,  the  two  sensations 
of  touchinor  and  beinor  touched,  when  we  come  in  contact 
with  our  own  skin.  In  paralysis  our  own  limbs  are  to  us  as 
foreign  bodies,  inasmuch  as  the  sensation  of  active  touch  is 
present  alone.  Another  important  series  of  double  sensa- 
tions arises  when  the  child  sees  and  also  feels  his  own  move- 
ments. Another  important  fact  is  that  we  both  see  and  feel 
our  own  movements,  while  we  only  see  other  movements. 


PEnCEPTTOX  OF  DTSTAXfE.  \2\ 

Visual  Perception  of  Distance.  The  visual  percep- 
tion of  distance  or  deptli  proceeds  upon  the  tactual  and 
muscular  perception  of  distance.  It  consists  in  the  ac- 
quired interpretation  of  light  and  color  differences  in 
terms  of  distance  already  given  by  the  skin  and  muscles. 
The  original  colored  surface  presented  in  vision  is  pro- 
jected more  or  less  distantly,  according  as  its  lights  and 
shades  are  associated  with  a  greater  or  less  muscular  or 
tactual  coefficient.  This  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  the 
original  errors  of  sight,  in  respect  to  distance,  are  rectified 
by  touch  and  muscular  movement.  In  the  Trinchinetti 
case  tlie  patient  at  first  '*  attempted  to  grasp  an  orange 
with  her  hand  very  near  the  eye  ;  then,  perceiving  her 
error,  stretched  out  her  forefinger  and  pushed  it  in  a 
straight  line  slowly  until  she  reached  her  object."  Other 
patients  have  done  the  same,  when  first  restored  to  sight. 
This  interpretation  in  terms  of  muscular  and  tactual  feeling 
becomes,  in  later  experience,  a  matter  of  the  sensitiveness 
of  the  eye  itself.  Its  own  mechanism  of  movement  and 
retinal  reaction  gives  data  by  association  for  the  percep- 
tion of  depth. 

A  number  of  factors  enter  in  the  mechanical  adjustment 
of  the  eye  to  sight  at  different  distances.  Among  them 
we  may  mention  :  a.  A  muscular  strain  when  the  object 
is  near,  due  to  the  slight  contraction  of  the  pupil  and  the 
swelling  of  the  anterior  surface  of  the  crystalline  lens. 
This  is  called  the  sensation  of  accommodation,  b.  Differ- 
ence in  an  object  when  seen  near  or  far  whh  both  ej^es. 
The  difference  in  the  angle  of  vision  of  the  two  e3'es 
enables  us  to  see  parts  of  the  sides  and  thickness  of  the 
object  gazed  at,  and  this  datum  of  depth  varies  with  the 
distance,  c.  Strain  arising  from  the  varying  angle  made 
by  the  lines  of  vision  of  the  two  eyes.  When  the  object 
is  near  the  eyes  turn  toward  each  other  ;  this  is  known  as 
the  sensation  of  convergence,  d.  Dimness  of  outline  of  a 
distant  object,  or  poor  light,  the  retinal  elements  being  but 


122  PERCEPTIOy. 

feebly  excited,  e.  Dirninislied  size,  fewer  of  the  elements 
being  excited,  f.  In  addition  there  are  more  general  con- 
siderations which  aid  our  estimation  of  distance,  such  as 
tlie  number  of  intervening  objects,  the  known  size  of  the 
object,  and  others. 

The  finer  estimation  of  distance  is  a  matter  of  cultiva- 
tion and  practice.  Indications  entirely  lost  to  the  ordi- 
nary observer  are  unconsciously  taken  into  account  by  the 
sailor  and  artist  ;  such  as  tlie  length  of  shadows,  the  air 
perspective,  and  delicate  discrimination  of  colors.  All 
this  is  clearly  a  matter  of  acquired  judgment,  which  may 
be  improved  to  an  endless  degree  almost  by  the  exercise 
of  trained  attention  and  study.  In  pictorial  art  the  process 
is  reversed,  the  task  of  the  artist  being  to  interpret  back 
upon  a  plane  surface  those  data  of  the  perception  of  depth 
which  we  all  unconsciously  proceed  upon.  So  fixed  do  the 
associations  of  distance  become  that,  while  our  own  sense 
experiences  were  sufticient  to  convert  our  primitive  sensa- 
tions of  color  into  a  complex  of  objects  about  us,  we  need 
a  teacher  of  the  elements  of  perspective  to  enable  us  to 
revert  again  to  the  conditions  of  our  original  perception. 

Localization  of  Sounds  in  Space.  The  position  of 
sounding  objects  in  space  is  roughly  indicated  by  the  ear, 
but  this  rough  localization  proceeds  upon  the  previous  per- 
ception of  objects  by  touch  and  sight.  It  is  only  after  the 
surrounding  world  is  tolerably  familiar  and  its  sounds  al- 
ready associated  with  known  objects,  that  the  sensations  of 
hearing  are  definitely  placed.  This  localization  by  the  ear 
involves  distance  and  direction.  The  distance  of  sounding 
bodies  is  judged  from  the  intensity  of  the  sound,  especially 
when  the  normal  sound  is  well  known.  When  the  hearing 
is  impaired  sounds  are  located  farther  away.  The  sense  of 
direction  seems  to  arise  from  several  causes,  the  principal 
of  which  is  the  relative  strength  of  the  sound  in  the  two 
ears.  The  sounding  body  is  located  on  the  side  on  which 
the  ear  receives  more  sound  waves.     If  a  sound  be  made  on 


SENSE-TNTUITIOX.  123 

the  median  vertical  line  through  the  head — say  above — it 
is  not  localized,  but  a  slight  variation  on  either  side  the 
line  is  at  once  detected.  Consequently,  we  locate  sounds 
as  right  and  left,  before  and  behind,  much  better  than  up  and 
down.  Again,  there  is  a  tendency  to  locate  loud  sounds  in 
front,  from  the  fact  that  more  sound  waves  from  that  di- 
rection are  collected  by  the  external  ear.  Delicate  sensa- 
tions of  touch  and  muscular  movement  also  in  the  ear  aid 
us  in  localizing  sounds,  though  to  a  much  less  degree  than 
in  tlie  hearing  of  some  animals  wliose  ear  muscles  are 
largely  developed. 

Feeling  of  Equilibrium  from  the  Ear.  Recent  in- 
vestigations have  shown  that  the  feeling  of  equilibrium  of 
tlie  body  in  space  is  due  in  part,  at  least,  to  combined 
muscular  and  auricular  sensations.  The  feeling  of  erect- 
ness  arises  from  muscular  strain  in  the  limbs  and  trunk. 
The  feeling  of  direction  involves  also  the  muscles  of  the 
eye.  Feelings  of  the  rotation  and  general  position  of  the 
head  in  respect  to  the  body  are  given  by  the  semicircular 
canals  of  the  ear.  These  canals  are  projected  in  the  three 
dimensions  of  space  to  which  they  seem  to  have,  respectively, 
a  determinate  relation. 

Ideal  Product  of  Localization :  Idea  of  Space.  The 
idea  of  space,  as  thus  treated,  is  acquired  in  concrete  per- 
ception. Space,  so  far,  has  meant  extension,  considered  as 
an  attribute  of  objects  extended.  The  finished  idea  of 
space,  as  a  great  void,  is  derived  only  b}^  a  process  of  ab- 
straction to  be  considered  later.  From  the  perception  of  a 
body  extended  we  pass  to  the  conception  of  an  extension  or 
space  which  this  body  fills  :  we  abstract  the  body  and  leave 
the  space.* 

§  5.  Sexse-Intuitiox. 

The  third  and  last  stage  in  the  process  of  the  perception 
of  the  external  world  may  be  called  Sense-Intuition.     In 

1  On  theories  of  space-perception  see  my  Handbook  of  Psychology, 
vol.  i.  chap.  viii.  §  4. 


124  PEnCEPTIOK. 

the  first  of  tlie  three  stages  under  wliicli  we  found  this 
process  naturally  taking  place,  i.  e.,  Differentiation,  we  saw 
the  breaking  up  of  the  general  and  vague  sensory  content 
of  the  infant's  consciousness  into  the  discriminated  sensa- 
tions of  the  different  senses;  in  the  second,  i.  e.,  Localization, 
these  sensations  have  taken  position  in  space  ;  in  the  third, 
i.  e.,  Sense- Intuition,  sensations  are  gathered  together  in 
the  permanent  units  or  wholes  which  we  call  "  things"  in 
our  ordinary  dealings  with  the  w^orld. 

As  illustrating  the  incompleteness  of  the  perceptive  proc- 
ess at  the  stage  to  which  we  have  now  advanced,  we  may 
imagine  a  consciousness  holding  a  given  number  of  well  dif- 
ferentiated and  localized  sensations  ;  say,  a  taste,  a  smell, 
etc.,  as  in  "psychic  blindness,"  These  have  no  connection 
among  themselves  at  their  first  experience,  although  they 
are  given  the  same  locality  and  occur  at  about  the  same 
time.  There  is  no  reason  that  they  should  be  thought  of  to- 
gether, or  that  one  should  suggest  the  other.  That  is,  there 
is  no  reason  that  the  intuition  ^^Tp/e  should  emerge.  There 
is  a  furtlier  process  by  which  this  important  lack  is  supplied, 
and  sensations,  until  now  isolated  and  disconnected,  are 
thrown  into  permanent  complexes  or  groups.  In  this 
further  advance  several  necessary  steps  are  apparent. 

I.  Attention.  However  sensations  may  be  grouped  in 
the  passing  panorama  of  consciousness,  they  have  no  last- 
ing connection  unless  their  coexistence  is  attended  to.  And 
not  only  so,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  simple  reflex  at- 
tention would  be  sufficient  for  the  grouping  of  sensations 
in  a  complex  whole.  It  may  at  least  be  safely  said  that 
the  arranging  and  co-ordinating  power  of  voluntary  at- 
tention greatly  facilitates  our  earliest  intuition  of  things. 
It  is  here  that  the  relating  or  apperceiving  function  of 
active  attention  is  most  apparent.  It  will  be  seen  in  treat- 
ing of  memory  that  the  degree  and  intensity  of  the  power 
of  retaining  and  reproducing  presentations  depends  upon 
the  degree  of  attention   given  to  the  original  experience. 


SEKSE-IXTCITIOX.  125 

This  is  especially  true  of  the  relations  in  wliicli  these 
original  presentations  stand  to  one  another.  The  touch, 
taste,  color,  smell,  or  any  two  or  three  of  the  qualities  of 
the  apple  are  experienced,  for  the  first  time,  in  immediate 
conjunction  and,  while  merely  a  colligation  of  sensations, 
are  attended  to  as  such,  and  their  coexistence  pictured. 
At  first  the  muscular  and  touch  sensations,  as  localized, 
precede,  and  upon  these  the  sensations  of  other  senses  are 
gradually  linked. 

II.  Association:  a  principle  by  which  presentations  once 
experienced  together  tend  to  come  up  in  memory  in  the  same 
order  and  connection.  By  this  principle  the  revival  of  one 
of  the  former  sensations  tends  to  arouse  the  others  with  which 
it  was  before  experienced.  In  tlie  further  extension  of  our 
experience  additional  sensations  are  added  to  the  associated 
group,  as  when  we  learn  that  an  apple  before  known  as 
si)herical  and  red  is  also  sweet  and  fragrant.  Like  asso- 
ciations in  general,  this  grouping  of  sensations  becomes 
fixed  onh^  by  much  repetition  and  with  the  help  of  many 
bodily  movements.  Thus  the  object  in  perception  becomes 
clearly  defined  and  distinguished  from  others,  and  the  ex- 
ternal world  takes  on  its  permanent  foi-m,  as  a  whole  of 
various  "things"  existing  in  relation  to  one  another. 

An  additional  fact,  important  to  the  permanent  fixing 
and  discrimination  of  percepts,  is  this,  that  we  learn  very 
early  to  name  objects  as  we  perceive  them.  This  is  a 
mental  function  to  be  considered  later,  and  it  need  be  noticed 
here  only  to  remark  that  it  is  a  great  auxiliary  to  the 
lasting  quality  of  our  sense-intuitions.  In  the  ordinary 
education  of  children,  when  their  knowledge  of  language 
goes  ahead  of  their  experience  of  things,  the  names  are 
ready  beforehand  and  are  applied,  under  instruction,  to 
objects  presented  to  them,  with  a  number  of  qualities 
clearly  pointed  out.  Thus  the  process  of  growth  in  the 
combination  of  qualities  is  greatly  abbreviated.  Teaching 
by  object  lessons  is  therefore  justified  psychologically  as  a 


126  PERCEPTION. 

method,  in  that  it  leads  tlie  child  to  attach  the  right  name 
to  the  right  object,  in  the  first  place,  and  thus  to  avoid  all 
tentative  and  mistaken  efforts  at  discrimination. 

Motor  Intuition.^  Muscular  sensations  gradually  be- 
come grouped  or  integrated  in  a  similar  way.  With  wider 
use,  a  larger  number  of  muscles  are  associated  in  the  per- 
formance of  a  common  movement.  These  motor  intuitions 
take  the  form  of  ideal  or  pictured  co-ordinations  of  move- 
ment, which  become  more  and  more  sure  and  automatic  as 
the  muscles  are  exercised  in  groups  after  repeated  effort. 
The  early  random  movements  of  the  child  are  thus  worked 
up  into  the  systematic  co-ordinated  muscular  groups  of  the 
adult  life,  by  gradual  adaptation  to  the  environment  :  for 
example,  walking,  piano  pla^nng. 

§  6.  Reflection  or  Self-consciousness. 

The  highest  form  of  consciousness  is  5e{/*-consciousness. 
The  notion  of  self,  like  other  notions,  is  a  gradual  growth. 
Tiie  vague  feeling  of  the  ego  which  the  first  affective  ex- 
periences afford,  the  feeling  of  modification  in  the  con- 
sciousness as  the  background  or  theater  of  presentation, 
and  the  recurrence  of  this  feeling  again  and  again  in  con- 
nection with  objects  new  and  old — and  added  to  this  the 
mass  of  more  constant  organic  and  vital  sensation — all  this 
is  the  beginning  of  the  sense  of  personality  or  self.  Its  at- 
tributes of  permanence,  identity,  and  activity  become  more 
prominent  with  the  development  of  will  in  connection  with 
muscular  effort,  and  with  the  establishment  of  the  relation 
of  subject  and  object  which  is  finally  a  fundamental  fact. 
By  reflection  is  meant  the  turning  in  of  the  mind  to  itself 
as  its  own  object.  By  the  result  of  reflection  is  meant, 
therefore,  the  knowledge  which  the  mind  has  of  its  own 
operations,  recognized  as  its  own.  It  is  an  advance  on 
the  simple  awareness  of  consciousness,  in  which  there  is 

^Compare  Maudsley's  discussiou,  P/ii/siologt/ and  Pathology  of  the 
Mind,  Americnn  edition,  chap.  viii. 


IDEA   OF  SELF.  127 

no  reference  to  self  as  different  from  its  object.  In  reflec- 
tion, this  reference  has  distinct  place,  and  the  self  is  dis- 
covered through  the  act  of  attentive  inspection,  as  having 
and  exercising  the  characteristics  of  mind. 

Ideal  Product  of  Reflection:  Idea  of  Self  Through 
reflection,  therefore,  the  idea  of  self  is  attained  and  assumes 
its  important  place  in  the  mental  world.  Round  the  self 
as  a  center  the  intellectual  life  plays.  To  it  all  possible 
forms  of  experience  are  referred.  It  brings  coherence  into 
the  circuit  of  consciousness,  by  giving  it  a  center  of  refer- 
ence and  a  circumference  of  limitation  to  the  individual. 


EEPEESENTATIOK 
MEMORY. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION.  ^ 

Our  states  of  consciousness,  as  a  general  fact,  are  all  lia- 
ble to  reproduction,  recall,  or  revival.  The  original  states 
of  consciousness  are  designated  Presentations,  or  primary 
states  ;  and  the  corresponding  revived  states,  to  which  they 
give  rise,  Representations,  or  secoyidary  states. 

§  1.  General  Nature  of  Memory. 

The  capacity  to  be  revived  on  suitable  conditions  ex- 
tends to  all  states  of  consciousness.  This  revival  is  most 
vivid  and  facile  for  sensations  of  sight,  touch,  and  sound, 
from  the  fact  already  noticed  that  these  sensations  are 
mostly  presentative,  having  the  forms  of  space  and  time. 
Objects  seen  are  readily  pictured  when  the  eyes  are  closed, 
and  sounds  of  tunes,  and  more  especially  of  words,  are  re- 
produced with  great  ease.  In  reading  a  page  we  recall 
the  sounds  of  the  spoken  words  involuntarily  ;  and,  if  it 
be  a  page  of  poetry,  the  rhythm  and  rhyme  are  caught  by 
the  quick  revival  of  the  words  and  measures  in  succession. 
Other  sensations,  as  tastes  and  odors,  are  also  capable  of 
reproduction.  The  fact  that  we  distinguish  and  classify 
them  is  sufficient  proof  of  tliis.  Their  reproduction  is 
more  obscure  from  the  fact  that,  being  more  affective,  they 
caunot  be  pictured  under  the  presentative  forms  of  time 

'  Qi.  my  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  chap.  ix. 

138 


j^ATUBE  OF  MEMORY.  129 

and  space.  But  that  these  forms,  and  consequently 
memory  pictures  in  general,  are  not  essential  to  memory, 
is  seen  in  the  fact  that  pains  and  pleasures,  and  tlie  emo- 
tions, which  are  purely  affective  states,  are  remembered 
with  great  distinctness  ;  these  states  afford  no  data  for  our 
picturing  faculty.  According  to  Epicurus,  the  memory  of 
past  pleasure  and  the  imagination  of  future  pleasure  are 
the  principal  source  of  our  happiness.  Sympathy  depends 
upon  the  revival  of  our  own  pains  and  pleasures  ;  for  we 
cannot  sympathize  strongly  in  cases  which  our  own  experi- 
ence does  not  cover.  And  finally,  the  acts  of  will  are  pres- 
ent in  memory,  giving,  according  to  their  nature,  moral 
satisfaction  or  regret. 

Strictly  speaking,  a  distinction  is  to  be  drawn  between 
states  which  are  revii^ed  after  having  once  disappeared  from 
consciousness,  and  those  which  persist  in  consciousness  a 
short  period  after  the  external  stimulus  has  ceased  to  act. 
The  latter  is  a  mental  after-image,  somewhat  like  the 
physical  after-image  on  the  retina,  alread}^  mentioned. 
Every  percept  clearly  distinguished  leaves  its  outline  in 
consciousness  for  a  very  small  period,  and  then  fades 
rapidly  away.  In  the  case  of  a  rapid  succession  of  presen- 
tations there  is  a  coexistence  of  elements  and  not  a 
revival.  This  is  the  case,  probably,  with  written  and 
spoken  words,  tunes,  rapid  rhythm. 

Proof  that  Presentation  and  Representation  differ 
only  in  Degree  or  Intensity.^  Several  kinds  of  evidence 
ma}^  be  adduced  in  support  of  the  claim  that  presentation 
and  representation  are  one  and  the  same  process. 

I.  From  Conscious7iess.  We  are  aware  in  consciousness 
of  no  peculiar  marks  of  revived  states  by  which  to  distin- 
guish them  from  percepts,  except  that  they  are  prevail- 
ingly of  less  intensity.  In  the  conscious  reproduction  the 
conditions  of  the  presentation  are  vaguely  reproduced. 
The  representation  of  a  name,  sound,  the  tic-tac  of  the 
'Cf.  Rubier,  Psychologic,  pp.  153-157. 


130  BETENTIOJ^  AND  REPRODUCTION. 

pendulum,  is  referred  to  the  ear.  The  image  of  an  extended 
object  is  formed  as  extended  in  the  fiekl  of  vision.  If  we 
try  to  recall  the  taste  of  an  orange  we  seem  to  have  a  kind 
of  after-taste  on  the  tongue.  In  recalling  emotion  the 
general  conditions  of  our  first  experience  of  it  are  found 
with  it  in  memory  by  the  law  of  association.  There  is 
this  difference  between  the  train  of  presentations  and  that 
of  representations,  that  the  latter  is  accompanied  by  a  feel- 
ing of  familiarity  and  anticipation.  But  it  is  doubtful 
whether  this  feeling  is  present  at  the  reproduction,  unless 
it  involve  a  measure  of  comj^lexity  which  was  also 
present  in  the  original.  This  feeling  is  present  in  the 
perception,  also,  when  by  repetition  an  element  of  represen- 
tation is  involved  in  it.  In  the  case  of  voluntary  reproduc- 
tion, it  is  true,  there  is  the  addition  of  an  exercise  of  will, 
which  is  of  great  importance  in  affording  us  a  means  of  dis- 
tinguishing between  the  percept  and  its  image  ;  but  this  is 
not  necessary  to  the  reproduction  more  than  to  the  original 
perception,  since  most  of  our  memory  pictures  arise  involun- 
tarily.* It  has  its  counterpart  also  in  certain  voluntary 
efforts  of  perception  ;  as  when  we  explore  an  unknown 
scene  with   the   eye   or   feel   over   an   unknown   surface. 

II.  Presentations  and  Representations  have  the  same 
Physiological  Antecedents  and  Effects,  The  physiological 
antecedents  of  both  primary  and  secondary  mental  states 
are  spoken  of  later  under  the  physical  conditions  of  mem- 
ory. It  is  sufficient  to  say,  here,  that  the  immediate  ante- 
cedents, the  brain  processes,  are  the  same  in  both  cases. 
The  remote  antecedents  of  the  percept — presence  of  an 
object,  and  stimulus  of  the  sense — are  w'anting  in  the  case 
of  the  revived  image  ;  but  it  is  the  immediate  antecedent 
upon  which  the  representation  depends. 

The  physical  consequences  or  effects  are  also  the  same. 
Mtiller  says  that  the  simple  idea  of  a  nauseous  taste  is  some- 

'  This  relation  to  will  is  given  due  recognition  in  a  later  connection, 
Tjelow,  chap.  xix.  §  5. 


PllESEXTATIOJS'  AND  BEPRESENTATION.         131 

times  sufficient  to  produce  sickness,  the  natural  effect  of  tlie 
real  sensation.  The  visual  picture  of  a  person  who  has 
once  provoked  our  anger  serves  to  produce  it  again  with 
the  same  physical  expression.  Intense  mental  picturing  of 
a  primary  color  may  so  exliaust  the  retinal  elements  that 
the  compleraentar}"  color  is  seen  when  the  eyes  are  opened. 
It  is  hard  to  think  upon  an  energetic  action  without 
imitating  it,  just  as  in  the  original  attention  to  the  perform- 
ance of  it  by  others  we  had  such  "a  bodily  tendency  ;  and 
to  have  a  word  in  mind  is  usually  to  form  it  with  the 
organs  of  speech.  Further,  the  simple  thought  of  great 
cold  makes  one  shiver.  The  thought  of  the  drawing  of  a 
sharp  knife  over  glass  sets  one's  teeth  on  edge,  as  Darwin 
says.  Anyone  who  has  attended  a  clinical  operation  knows 
how  acute  the  suggested  sensations  of  cutting  are  at  first. 

in.  Frequent  Confusion  between  Presentation  and  He- 
presentation.  The  strongest,  indeed  the  decisive,  proof 
that  psychologically  these  two  classes  of  states  are  really 
one  is  this  :  we  frequently  mistake  one  for  the  other. 
"  The  proof,"  said  Reid,  "  that  there  is  an  essential  differ- 
ence of  nature  between  these  states  is  that  we  never  con- 
found a  sensation,  however  feeble,  with  an  image,  or  the 
contrary."  This  is  simply  an  error  of  observation.  We 
do  often  confound  them,  and  several  different  cases  of  this 
confusion  may  be  pointed  out. 

1.  Whe7i  the  intensity  of  the  image  is  very  great.  This 
is  the  case  in  hallucinations  and  insanity.  "  Patients  con- 
tinually hear  voices  speaking  to  them,  or  about  them,  reply- 
ing to  their  most  secret  thoughts,  suggesting  to  them  pro- 
fane and  obscene  ideas,  and  advising  and  threatening 
them."  *  In  these  cases  abnormal  brain  action  gives  the 
image  the  verisimilitude  of  a  sensation  and  the  distinction 
is  completely  lost.  The  same  result  may  arise  in  normal 
life  from  simple  force  of  imagination.  Newton  could 
bring  before  him,  when  in  the  dark,  an  image  of  the  sun, 
with  all  the  characteristics  of  reality,  and  Goethe  coulc^ 
'  Maudsle^y,  loc.  cit. 


132  RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION 

evoke  an  object  and  cause  it  to  pass  through  a  series  of 
transformations. 

Further,  there  are  cases  of  regular  mistake  in  our  per- 
ceptions, in  which  an  image  passes  for  tlie  real  object.  In 
reading  rapidly  we  do  not  see  all  the  letters  individualh^, 
but  pass  over  them  with  a  supply  of  appropriate  images. 
Proof  readers  know  this  from  sad  experience.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  we  see  the  first  letters  of  the  words  and  the  last, 
slurring  over  the  middle  characters  and  supplying  them 
from  our  knowledge  and  from  the  connection.  Yet  we 
think  that  each  letter  has  been  seen  in  order.  Tlie  blind 
spot  in  the  field  of  vision  is  filled  in  by  the  one-eyed  man 
and  th«  field  seems  to  present  an  unbroken  continuity.  And 
our  acquired  perceptions  are  often  imaged  additions  to  our 
presentations  and  interpretations  of  them.  In  all  these 
cases  the  image  is  of  such  intensity  as  to  seem  homo- 
geneous with  the  presentational  field  which  it  supple- 
ments. 

2.  When  the  actual  sensation  is  very  feeble.  The  same 
result  is  found  when  the  sensation  is  reduced  in  intensity 
to  the  similitude  of  the  image.  For  example,  when  a  sound 
dies  out  little  by  little  the  time  comes  when  one  is  uncer- 
tain whether  he  still  hears  it  or  only  remembers  it.  If  the 
two  experiences  were  distinct  in  nature  the  line  between 
them  would  be  very  plain.  Patients  often  cannot  tell 
whether  they  feel   a   pain    or   only   imagine   it. 

This  is  especially  the  case  in  states  of  hypnotic  hallu- 
cination. Here  a  mere  suggestion  of  the  presence  of  an 
object  suffices  to  place  its  image  in  the  conscious  field  of 
the  patient  with  a  persistence  and  perceptive  consistency 
which  nothing  but  a  counter-suggestion  can  remove.  The 
image  becomes  for  the  patient  an  actual  object  for  all  the 
senses,  the  ordinary  tests  of  illusion*  fail,  and  there  is 
absolutely  no  distinction  to  the  subject  between  the  image 
and  the  reality. 

In  all  cases  in  which  there  is  no  actual  perceptive  ex|)eri- 
'  See  chap.  xiv.  §  4. 


DEFIXITIOX  OF  MEMORY.  133 

eiice  to  correct  the  force  of  images,  we  are  liable  to  illusion, 
and  lience  the  mere  absence  of  percepts  is  often  sufficient 
to  cause  the  errors  attributed  above  to  the  strens^theninor 
or  weakening  of  sensation.  This  is  the  case  in  dreaming. 
The  dream  world  is  the  only  world  then  in  consciousness, 
and  though  its  intensity  is  probably  feeble,  as  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  dreams  do  not  linger  generally  in  conscious- 
ness, it  is  taken  for  real,  simply  from  the  absence  of  any- 
thing more  real  wherewith  to  contrast  it. 

Definition  of  Memory.  In  considering  the  entire  mental 
function  which  we  call  memory,  we  find  that  it  involves 
several  factors  or  stages,  which  are  sometimes  treated  as 
distinct  operations,  but  may  more  properly  be  considered, 
as  we  find  them,  together.  Together  they  constitute  a 
chain  of  events  whereby  the  mental  life  of  the  past  is 
retained  and  utilized  in  the  present.  First,  there  is  the 
permanent  possibility  of  the  revival  of  a  past  experience 
wlien  its  first  circumstances  are  repeated  ;  this  is  called 
Retention.  Kext,  there  is  the  actual  return  of  the  image 
to  consciousness  :  Reproduction.  Third,  this  image  is 
known  as  having  already  been  presented  in  our  past  expe- 
rience :  Recognition.  And  finally,  there  is,  in  most  cases, 
an  immediate  reference  to  the  exact  past  time  of  its 
first  experience  :  Localization  in  time.  These,  taken  to- 
gether, constitut'e  a  finished  act  of  memor}^  and  will  be 
considered  in  the  order  of  their  actual  rise  in  conscious- 
ness. 

Accordingly,  memory  may  be  defined  as  a  mental  revival 
of  conscious  experience:  in  which  the  word  experience 
refers  to  the  past  and  suggests  Retention  ;  the  term 
revival  answers  to  Reproduction  ;  and  the  word  mental 
makes  the  whole  a  conscious  feat  of  Recognition.  This 
definition  puts  the  case  in  the  broadest  light  and  admits 
any  interpretation  of  the  subordinate  operations  which 
may  be  consistent  with  fact. 


134  llETBNTION  AND  REPRODUCTION. 

§  2.  Retention. 

It  is  seen,  in  the  above  analysis,  tliat  an  act  of  memory 
touches  consciousness  at  two  points  :  at  the  beginning,  i.  6., 
at  the  time  of  the  original  presentation,  and  at  the  end, 
^.  e.,  in  the  act  of  conscious  revival.  We  remember 
nothing  of  which  we  were  not  conscious  at  the  time  of  its 
occurrence,  nor  do  we  remember  anything  when  we  are  in 
a  state  of  unconsciousness.  These  two  points  of  contact 
conceded,  the  question  at  once  arises :  what  of  the  inter- 
vening period  ?  I  saw,  for  example,  a  house  yesterday  or 
last  year  ;  I  was  conscious  of  the  presentation.  I  recall 
the  image  of  the  house  to-day,  or  a  year  hence  ;  I  am  con- 
scious of  the  representation.  But  where  has  it  been  in  the 
mean  time,  while  I  was  not  conscious  of  it?  Several 
answers   to   tliis   question   have   been   proposed. 

Theories  of  Retention.  I.  linages,  ice  are  told  by  the 
metaphysicians,^  are  stored  avmyin  the  mind,  in  the  pigeon- 
holes of  the  soul,  to  be  brought  out  for  use  when  the  proc- 
esses of  mind  require  them.  This  view,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  is  not  now  advocated  in  this  language.  The  mind  has 
no  pigeon  holes  ;  it  is  not  a  storehouse  of  images.  But  it 
is  maintained  in  more  discriminating  form  by  others  who, 
very  commendably,  wish  to  maintain  the  continuity  of 
mind  over  the  chasm  of  forgetfulness  which  divides  these 
two  points  of  conscious  life.  Yet  it  seems  sufficient  answer 
to  this  to  say  that,  if  the  image  has  left  consciousness  it 
has  left  the  mind,  as  far  as  we  know.  It  is  only  by  con- 
sciousness that  we  can  discover  the  image  at  all.  This  has 
greater  force  in  view  of  tlie  complete  fulfillment  of  all  the 
requirements  of  the  case  which  we  find  in  the  theory 
advocated  below. 

II.  Rete7ition  is  due  to  a  psychological  habit.  This  the- 
ory refers  retention  to  habit,  and  conceives  of  habit  as  a 
permanent  disposition  of  the  mind  to  do  again,  whenever 

*  See  Hamilton  on  "Latent  Images,"  Metaphysics,  lect.  xxx. 


THEORIES  OF  RETEXTIOX.  135 

circumstances  permit,  what  it  has  once  clone — to  think 
again  what  it  has  once  thought.  As  a  description  of  the 
actual  fact  this  is  true.  Tliere  is  such  a  tendency,  to  a  very 
marked  degree  ;  but  it  is  merely  an  observed  aspect  of 
memory,  and,  in  noting  it,  we  do  not  at  all  explain  the  ac- 
tivity of  memory.  When  we  have  called  it  a  habit,  a  dis- 
position, a  permanent  tendency  of  mind,  what  more  can  we 
say?  The  questions  arise  :  Is  it  based  on  psychological 
grounds,  or  will  physiological  facts  explain  it?  Is  it  an 
ultimate  law,  or  can  it  be  reduced  to  simpler  principles  ? 
Habits  are  not  facts  of  consciousness,  and  we  have  no  ex- 
perience of  them  except  by  observation  of  the  states  which 
are  supposed  to  exemplify  them ;  so  that  they  elude  our 
observation.  If  it  is  submitted,  therefore,  as  an  explana- 
tion of  retention  that  the  mind  becomes  accustomed  to 
acting  in  certain  waj^s,  and  so  repeats  itself,  the  ground  of 
this  mental  custom  must  be  again  referred  to  that  chasm 
of  the  unconscious  which  affords  so  ready  a  repository  for 
the  outcasts  of  our  ignorance. 

AsVolkmann  remarks,  moreover,  inasmuch  as  the  repres- 
entations are  not  essences,  but  functions,  the  dispositions 
or  habits  of  mind  must  be  functional  dispositions.  Now  a 
functional  disposition  can  only  consist  in  a  slight  persist- 
ence of  the  function,  which,  in  turn,  can  only  mean  a  con- 
tinuation or  persistence  of  the  representation  in  complete 
unconsciousness.  By  physical  disposition  or  tendency  we 
may  mean  combination  or  arrangement ;  a  readiness  of 
parts  for  a  given  result.  But  in  speaking  of  presentations, 
as  functions,  we  cannot  employ  such  a  meaning.  Wundt 
himself  remarks  :  "If  we  carry  the  view  (of  dispositions  of 
mind)  over  from  the  physical  to  the  mental,  only  conscious 
presentations  can  be  considered  real  presentations,  while 
those  that  are  driven  out  of  consciousness  may  be  consid- 
ered as  mental  dispositions  of  an  iinhmmn  hind  io^Y2iV^.  re- 
vival." And  he  goes  on  to  say  :  "  The  essential  difference 
between  the  spheres  of  the  physical  and  mental  consists  in 


136  RETENTION  AND  nEPRODVCTION. 

this,  that  in  the  former  case  we  may  hope  to  learn  more  of 
the  changes  which  we  call  dispositions,  while  on  the  mental 
side  this  hope  is  forever  forbidden,  inasmuch  as  the  limits 
of  consciousness  are  at  the  same  time  the  limits  of  our 
inner  experience."  * 

III.  The  linage  is  suhco7iscious.  The  school  of  Herbart 
support  tlie  theory  that  every  image  which  is  capable  of 
being  revived  in  consciousness  exists  in  a  state  of  dimin- 
islied  intensity,  having  fallen  below  the  "  tliresliold  "  of  con- 
sciousness, to  rise  again  when,  for  any  reason,  its  intensity  J 
is  heightened.  This  may  mean  that  the  representation 
is  vaguely  or  dimly  conscious,  lying  in  a  state  of  diffused 
attention,  but  still  entering  as  a  factor  in  the  complex 
whole  of  our  present  state  ;  in  which  case  the  theory  is 
true,  as  far  as  those  images  are  concerned  which  can  be 
found,  however  dimly,  in  consciousness.  But  it  then  over- 
looks the  great  mass  of  newly  recalled  facts  ;  facts  which 
are  in  no  sense  even  in  subconsciousness,  as  my  memory  of 
a  date  in  history  when  I  am  thinking  of  something  to 
which  it  is  quite  foreign.  As  for  these  entii'ely  unconscious 
states,  the  Herbartians  have  no  alternative  but  to  hold  that 
they  lie,  with  minimum  intensitj'^,  in  the  depths  of  the 
psychic  life.  This  is  the  old  metaphysical  theory  in  more 
modern  guise.  The  phrase  "  unconscious  presentation " 
may  be  more  scientific  and  less  material  than  "  latent  im- 
ages" or  "  stored-up  ideas,"  but  it  is  equally  obscure — and 
less  picturesque. 

Another  pertinent  objection  to  this  theory  is  that  it  sup- 
poses a  degree  of  separateness  or  individuality  in  these 
supposed  unconscious  states,  which  in  real  mental  life  is 
impossible.  If  representations  coexist,  with  slight  inten- 
sities, in  unconscious  mind,  why  do  not  those  of  the  same 
quality  coalesce,  as  in  real  presentation  ?  I  have  a  dis- 
tinct memory  of  two  notes,  say  c  and  c' :  if  they  are  both 
present  in  subconsciousness,  differing  only  in  intensity  from 
'  Phys.  Psych.,  2d  ed.,  ii.  p.  205. 


" 


THEORIES  OF  HETENTIOX  137 

the  real  sensations,  why  do  they  not  coalesce  in  a  single 
sound  as  real  sounds  do  ?  So  generally  with  tliese  states  : 
there  is  no  interference  or  mutual  hindrance,  as  in  real  ex- 
perience. 

General  Criticism.  As  a  general  criticism  of  the  pre- 
ceding theories  of  retention,  the  following  consideration 
is  of  great  importance.  They  agree,  especially  the  first 
and  third,  in  regarding  tlie  representation  or  image  as  a 
thing  of  itself,  a  something  which  exists,  and  whose  pres- 
ence somewhere  else  must  be  supposed,  when  it  is  not  pres- 
ent in  consciousness.  We  are  told  the  percept  of  the  house 
was  in  consciousness  yesterday  and  the  representation  will 
be  again  to-morrow  ;  the  image  of  the  house  must  be  some- 
where to-day.  And  tliese  theories  attempt  to  conjecture 
the  whereabouts  of  this  image.  Very  slight  consideration 
leads  us  to  see  that  this  manner  of  thought  is  quite  mis- 
taken. The  image  is  not  a  thing  at  all,  to  be  stored  away 
or  sunk  in  subconsciousness  like  a  stone  in  a  lake  ;  it  is  a 
state,  a  mental  product,  dependent  upon  a  process,  and  in 
the  absence  of  this  process  it  simply  ceases  to  exist.  The 
true  answer  to  the  question,  as  to  where  the  presentation  is 
in  the  time  between  percept  and  memory,  is  JVowhere.  Its 
reinstatement  is  simply  the  reinstitution  of  the  process 
which  at  first  gave  it  rise.  Its  recall  is  a  recreation,  really 
a  new  presentation,  not  the  old  image.  AVe  never  have 
the  same  representation  twice.  We  are  thus  led  to  another 
theorj^ 

IV.  Physiological  Theory  of  Retention.  Disregarding 
the  fact  of  actual  reproduction,  which  is  considered  below, 
and  looking  only  to  the  permanent  possibility  of  such  re- 
production, that  is,  to  the  set  of  conditions  of  such  a 
kind  as  to  make  the  revival  of  mental  states  at  any 
time  real,  we  are  led  to  the  view  that  retention  is  physical, 
a  matter  of  the  modification  of  brain  and  nerve  structure 
or  function,  such  modification  persisting  and  giving  rise 
to  a  phj'siological  habit  or  tendency.     Before  proceeding 


138  BETEKTION  AND  REPRODUCTION. 

farther  to  explain  and  defend  this  view  some  general  ob- 
jections may  be  met. 

1.  It  is  objected  that  physiological  modifications  coukl 
not  last  as  retention  does,  even  admitting  the  general  prin. 
ciple  tliat  every  organic  modification  must  leave  some  trace 
behind  it.  Here  the  question  is  simply  as  to  the  length  of 
an  admitted  process  of  obliteration.  It  is  not  held  that  these 
modifications  do  not  fade  away  and  finally  disappear,  as 
far  as  memory  is  concerned.  The  fact  of  forgetfulness, 
seemingly  absolute,  establishes  the  tendency  of  these  traces 
to  disappear.  Therefore  we  only  have  to  ask,  liow  long, 
relatively,  might  thej^  last  ?  Admitting  this  point,  we  still 
find  it  possible  to  hold  that  these  nervous  modifications 
l^ersist  indefiniteh'-,  as  memory  sometimes  appears  to.^ 
There  are  analogous  cases  of  long  persistence  of  physical 
modification.  If  a  key  be  laid  upon  a  white  paper,  and  ex- 
posed to  the  sun,  and  the  paper  be  then  preserved  in  dark- 
ness, the  image  of  the  key  is  visible  for  some  years.  Even  in 
case  of  organic  modification  where  the  physical  elements 
are  undergoing  perpetual  renewal,  the  form  persists.  An 
insignificant  scar  on  the  skin  remains  through  life.  The 
virus  of  smallpox,  or  the  presence  once  of  an  infectious 
disease,  leaves  marks  sometimes,  throughout  the  elements 
of  the  body,  which  are  never  erased.  Muscular  fiber  is 
permanently  modified  by  exercise.  We  have  a  further 
analogy  in  the  permanent  disposition  Avhich  the  motor 
centers  assume  for  the  co-ordination  of  movements.  At 
first  complex  movements  are  performed  with  great  difficulty, 
the  central  nervous  disposition  being  wanting  ;  but  after 
some  practice  these  dispositions  become  established  and  the 
co-ordinated  movements  become   semi-automatic.     Of  the 

'  See  Ribot,  Leg  Maladies  de  la  Memoire,  chap.  iv. ,  and  Taine,  In- 
telligence, 11.  chap.  11.,  for  remarkable  cases  of  such  memory.  An 
ignorant  girl,  during  a  severe  illness  In  her  twenty-fifth  year,  recited 
long  pieces  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  which  she  had  heard  her 
uncle  repeat  when  she  was  nine  years  old. 


TBEOnY  OF  BETESTIOK  139 

superior  centers  tlie  same,  in  all  probability,  may  be  said. 
Furtliermore,  liypnotic  experiments  show  beyond  question 
that  experiences  absolutely  beyond  recall  in  the  normal 
life  may  come  readily  back  to  the  hypnotic  somnambulist. 

2.  It  is  further  objected  that  the  brain  does  not  afford 
sufficient  substance  or  accommodation  for  so  many  co- 
existing memories,  supposing  them  to  be  permanent  traces, 
either  in  the  organism  or  its  functions.  But  this  difficulty, 
although  frequently  urged,  does  not  deserve  serious  thought. 
According  to  the  most  moderate  estimate,  the  large  brain 
contains  about  600,000,000  cells  and  even  a  larger  number 
of  fibers.  And  we  are  not  at  all  obliged  to  think  of  these 
elements  as  having  a  single  function  only.  They  are 
known,  on  the  contrary,  to  act  together  in  specific  con- 
nections, and  the  varieties  of  connections  of  so  many  ele- 
ments is  simply  infinite.  Further,  we  have  here,  also, 
analogous  cases  which  settle  the  question  without  further 
consideration  :  the  coexistence  of  innumerable  functional 
dispositions  in  the  motor  arrangement  of  the  nerves  and 
muscles  of  a  single  organ  of  the  body  ;  the  marvelous  fact 
of  the  life  development  of  an  organism  incased  in  a  single 
germ,  at  first  microscopic — a  germ  which  possesses,  in  dis- 
position or  tendenc}^,  all  the  organic  characteristics  of  the 
parents  to  the  most  minute  detail,  as  the  color  of  hair, 
shape  of  face,  and  those  indescribable  similarities  of  feature 
which  constitute  family  resemblance,  or  the  disposition  to 
peculiar  motor  habits.'  If  a  single  germ  cell  may  possess 
such  inexplicable  power  of  preserving  differences  of  form 
and  function,  what  limit  can  we  set  to  the  similar  power  of 
the  brain  ? 

3.  It  is  again  objected  that  the  reduction  of  retention  to 
a  physical  tendency  and  modification  interferes  with  men- 
tal continuity  and  destroys  the  unity  of  mind.  This,  how- 
ever, is  seen  not  to  be  the  case,  when  we  remember  that  we 

'  See  the  case  of  three  generations  having  the  habit  of  striking  the 
nose  with  the  fist  while  asleep,  Paulhau,  Physiologie  de  V Esprit,  p.  164. 


140  RETENTION  AND  UEPRODUCTION 

are  dealing  with  tlio  retention  of  individual  states  or  pres- 
entations, Avliose  lapse  from  consciousness  does  not  affect 
the  unity  and  continued  persistence  of  consciousness  itself. 
If  a  presentation  be  quite  out  of  consciousness  it  is  lost  to 
the  mental  life,  whatever  be  our  theor}^  of  its  fate — wliether 
it  be  in  unconsciousness,  weak  consciousness,  or  in  physical 
disposition.  The  unity  of  consciousness,  the  conscious 
active  unity  of  apperception,  remains  present  throughout  all 
the  come  and  go  of  states,  some  other  presentation  taking 
the  place  of  that  which  is  lapsed  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
another  content  occupying  the  active  process.  The  unity 
of  the  mental  life  consists,  not  in  the  persistence  of  single 
states,  buf:  in  the  conscious  oneness  of  the  ego  as  voluntary 
activit3\^ 

Physical  Basis  of  Memory.  As  to  the  nature  of  the 
physical  basis,  which  constitutes  the  primary  condition  of 
retention,  we  may  speak  in  general  outline.  In  the  case  of 
any  sensation  and  its  reaction  in  movement,  two  classes  of 
physical  data  are  involved  :  sensor  and  motor.  The  sensa- 
tion has  its  seat  in  the  gray  matter  of  the  brain,  from 
which,  by  a  fibrous  connection,  and  through  certain  motor 
elements  in  the  brain  or  spinal  cord,  communication  is 
established  with  the  muscular  tissue.  Each  such  sj^stem 
of  connected  or  associated  elements  is  called  a  sensori-motor 
circuit.  Now  every  sensation,  say  that  arising  from  a  bell, 
gives  two  kinds  of  modifications  in  the  nervous  system  : 
first,  it  works  an  unknown  change  in  the  sensor  cells,  and 
second,  it  tends  to  establish  motor  connections.  Accepting 
this  as  the  simplest  type  of  such  action,  we  can  conceive  of 
innumerable  modifications  and  complications  of  it.  Numer- 
ous motor  connections  may  be  possible  from  a  single  seat 
of  sensor  change.  For  example,  upon  feeling  a  painful  con- 
tact with  the  body,  we  have  numerous  alternative  move- 
ments to  relieve  it.     When  a  limb  is  fatigued  we  may  move 

'  See  the  section  on  ' '  Mental  Unity  "  in  my  Handbook  of  Psychology, 
vol.  ii.  chap.  11.  §  6, 


THEORY  OF  llETENTION.  141 

it  into  various  positions  of  change.  When  we  hear  a  word 
we  liave  a  tendency  both  to  speak  and  to  write  it,  involving 
different  motor  connections,  or  we  may  make  a  gesture  ex- 
pressive of  its  meaning.  In  the  same  way,  different  sensory 
centers  become  connected  with  one  another  by  their  fre- 
quent association  together  :  as  the  taste  and  color  of  an 
apple.  Now  every  time  the  sense  in  question  is  excited  by 
the  same  stimulus,  the  same  course  of  transmission,  by  the 
law  of  least  resistance,  is  liable  to  be  called  into  pla}"  ;  and 
there  is  a  tendency  to  confirm  both  the  sensor  modifi- 
cation and  the  sensori-motor  circuit.  Thus  greater  facility 
and  rapidity  are  given  to  the  process,  and  there  arises  in 
the  nervous  organism  a  readiness  or  disposition  to  repeat 
its  own  acts  under  similar  circumstances. 

Now  in  the  case  of  reproduction,  or  memor}^,  the  same 
nerve  elements  are  affected,  and  in  the  same  manner  ;  ex- 
cept that  the  sensor  centers  are  excited  from  within  instead 
of  from  without  :  from  some  other  center  instead  of  from 
the  end  organ.  For  example,  if  instead  of  hearing  the 
striking  of  the  bell  I  am  thinking  of  architecture,  then  of 
the  cathedral  at  Thun,  the  bells  of  Thun  arise  to  mind,  and 
I  have  a  memory  of  the  sound  of  a  bell.  This,  by  an  estab- 
lished association,  excites,  entirely  from  within,  the  center 
of  vision,  giving  a  visual  image  of  a  bell  ;  this  excites  the 
motor-connection  with  the  organs  of  speech,  and  I  pro- 
nounce the  Avord  bell.  Thus  the  same  elements  are  brought 
into  play  as  in  the  actual  presentations  by  the  senses  in- 
volved— the  bell  itself  being  absent.  This  is  the  physical 
basis  of  a  memory.  The  organism  is  disposed  toward  the 
revival  of  the  state  of  consciousness  of  the  original  per- 
ception. The  execution  of  movements,  at  first  difficult,  be- 
comes easy,  then  semi-automatic,  and  often  irresistible,  and 
nothing  remains  to  make  the  physical  retention  real  repro- 
duction, save  the  mental  conditions  Avhich  inaugurate  its 
movement.     In  memory,  the  connection  is  ideo-tnotor. 

Mental  Conditions  of  Retention.     The    mental    condi- 


142  RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION 

tions  of  re.tention  are  the  essential  thing — not  the  reten- 
tion itself,  which  we  have  found  to  be  a  matter  of  the 
physical  organism.  First  we  note  the  intensity  of  the  sen- 
sation. Sensations  or  perceptions  of  slight  intensity  are 
not  remembered  ;  this  is  because  they  do  not  reach  the 
relating  and  fixing  activity  of  apperception.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  they  are  retained  as  bodily  modifications  and  have 
their  influence  upon  the  general  cast  of  our  memory,  as  is 
shown  in  their  possible  recall  in  the  hypnotic  state.  But, 
not  having  been  given  a  place  and  connection  in  the  mental 
life,  they  have  no  associations  of  sufficient  strength  to 
accomplish  their  recall.  Intense  sensations,  on  the  other 
hand,  draw  the  attention  to  themselves  and  are  remem- 
bered. Another  condition,  or  facilitating  circumstance,  is 
repetition  of  the  first  sense-experience.  Repetition  tends  to 
bring  a  presentation  before  the  attention  from  the  very 
fact  that  it  is  the  same  experience  we  have  before  met. 
A  presentation  which  is  at  first  too  slight  for  notice  and  so 
escapes  attention,  at  another  time,  and  under  different  con- 
ditions, is  apperceived  and  fixed  in  an  escort  of  conscious 
states.  In  many  cases,  also,  the  very  fact  of  repetition 
serves  to  add  actual  strength  to  the  presentation,  proceed- 
ing upon  the  nervous  modification  or  tendency  begotten  of 
its  earlier  occurrence. 

Tlie  most  important  of  these  conditions,  however,  and 
that  to  which  those  mentioned  may  be  subordinated,  is  the 
attention.  The  attention  considered  in  its  entire  function 
as  the  apperceptive  agent  of  our  mental  life  is,  as  shall  be 
seen  later,  the  one  essential  mental  condition  of  memor}^ 
Here  we  deal  only  with  its  bearing  on  retention.  It  is  a 
universal  principle  that  things  attended  to  are  remembered, 
and  things  not  attended  to  are  forgotten.  This  arises 
from  a  twofold  effect  of  attention  :  first,  as  was  seen  in  the 
chapter  on  attention,  it  increases  the  intensity  of  presenta- 
tions, and  so  gives  them  a  greater  strength  and  nearness  in 
the  flow  of  niental  states  ;  and,  second,  it  gives  them  a 


CONDITIONS  OF  REPRODUCTION.  143 

related  position,  as  of  contiguity,  resemblance,  cause,  in 
reference  to  other  states  with  which  or  near  which  thej'' 
occur.  We  shall  see,  in  studying  association,^  that  our 
mental  experiences  are  never  isolated.  They  are  always 
bound  together  by  relations  which  the  mind  discerns  in 
apperception.  The  more  closely  and  definitely  they  are 
bound  together  the  more  permanent  are  our  acquisitions ; 
and  the  more  loosely  bound,  the  more  easily  dropped  out 
and  lost.  Now  apperception  is  this  binding.  When  we 
say  we  experience  a  sight  and  attend  to  it  we  mean  that 
we  bring  out  its  details  in  relation  to  one  another  and  in 
relation  to  our  earlier  and  later  experience,  giving  them  a 
place  in  the  permanent  texture  of  our  memory. 

§  3.  Reproduction. 

s  Primary  Condition.  The  first  condition  of  the 
reproduction  of  an  image  is  the  ph3^siological  disposition 
which  appears  to  constitute  retention.  Assuming  reten- 
tion, therefore,  we  inquire  into  the  further  elements  of 
reproduction.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  purely  physical 
modification  does  not  account  for  the  revival  of  an  image 
in  consciousness.  The  essential  element  of  memory  is 
lacking.  The  simple  fact  that  matter  modified  as  you 
please  does  not  remember  serves  to  refute  the  theory  of 
"  organic  memory."  We  might,  with  as  much  reason,  say 
that  the  post  remembers  the  nail  which  was  driven  into  it, 
because  it  retains  a  permanent  modification  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  its  elements,  or  that  the  seasoned  meerschaum  pipe 
remembers  by  virtue  of  the  molecular  changes  which  its 
frequent  use  has  wrought,  as  that  the  brain  remembers 
because  of  its  molecular  dispositions.  Of  the  physical 
process  we  may  say  :  a.  That  it  is  the  necessary  basis 
of  memory,  as  far  as  our  experience  goes.  h.  That  it 
accounts  for  retention,  c.  That  it  gives  direction  to  the 
flow  of  our  memories,  by  the  determination  of  one  of  many 
alternative  nervous  courses.  But  it  is  no  more  an  approach 
'  Chap.  xii. 


144  RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION. 

to  an  explanation  of  tlie  revival  in  consciousness  of  an 
image  than  of  the  first  perception  itself.  The  pliysical 
process  determines  vjhat  I  shall  remember  :  the  mental 
process,  that  I  shall  remember  it.  The  primary  condition, 
therefore,  of  reproduction  is  the  reinstatement  of  the 
original  presentation  by  a  new  apperceptive  construction. 

Supplementary  Condition.  It  lias  already  been  made 
more  or  less  clear  that  a  reproduction  is  a  recreation,  a  new 
product,  which  is  due  to  the  same  conditions  as  the  orig- 
inal perception,  with  the  lack  of  the  external  stimulus. 
This  lack  is,  however,  seeming  rather  than  real,  since  the 
central  stimulus  is  as  really  supplied  from  within  as  though 
the  object  were  present.  Admitting,  then,  the  physiolog- 
ical disposition  of  the  organism,  due  to  former  experience, 
we  find  the  further  supplementary  condition  of  reproduc- 
tion to  be  a  neio  stimulus  of  the  centers,  arising  generally 
from,  an  inner  or  mental  source.  This  new  stimulus,  how- 
ever, is  not  always  mental,  since  there  is  a  vast  range  of 
bodily  conditions  from  which  the  centers  may  be  excited, 
stimuli  which  may  be  called  intra-organic  in  distinction 
both  from  the  excitations  of  the  external  world  and  from 
those  of  the  world  of  conscious  states.  Any  stimulus  which 
fulfills  the  one  condition  of  reproducing  the  physical  func- 
tion, as  it  operated  in  perception — the  mental  conditions 
being  again  also  present — suftices  for  the  revival  of  a  pres- 
entation. 

This  theory  of  reproduction  explains  many  mysterious 
facts  which  are  inexplicable  on  the  theory  of  mental  habit 
or  of  unconscious  memory.  The  whole  field  of  unconscious 
trains  of  ideas  is  covered  by  the  consideration  of  an 
organic  process.  We  are  often  surprised  at  the  sudden  ap- 
pearance in  consciousness  of  a  representation  which  has  no 
apparent  connection  with  our  train  of  thought.^  Yet,  by 
close  attention,  we  can  often  find  some  dim  association 

'  Cf.  Hamilton,  Led.  on  Metaphysics,  iv.  cand  Mill,  Examination  of 
JIamiUou,  chap.  xv. 


AIDS  TO   REPRODUCTION.  145 

with  an  earlier  state.  In  consciousness  we  have  forgotten 
tiie  connection,  but  an  organic  disposition  asserts  itself 
through  all  the  links  of  our  earlier  presentation,  and  the 
unexpected  idea  is  the  consequence.  This  is  supported  by 
the  fact  drawn  from  ps\'chometry,  tliat  in  nmny  reactions 
tlie  physiological  process  seems  to  take  less  time  tlian  the 
mental/  It  is  quite  conceivable,  therefore,  that  when  a 
SLM'ies  of  nervous  modifications  follow  one  another  very 
quickly,  sufficient  time  is  not  afforded  between  them  for 
the  conscious  presentation.  Often,  also,  after  vain  efforts 
to  remember  a  date  or  name,  we  give  it  up,  but  when  think- 
ing of  other  things  it  suddenly  pops  up,  so  to  speak,  in 
consciousness.  It  is  possible  that  in  our  casting  about  for 
the  desired  memory  we  have  started  a  train  of  association 
which  has  run  its  course  in  the  organic  dispositions,  and 
terminated  successfully.  These  cases  will  be  again  re- 
ferred to  in  the  consideration  of  the  association  of  ideas. 
This  explanation  seems  much  more  natural  than  the  mys- 
terious hypothesis  of  unconscious  mind. 

The  principle  that  the  same  physical  process  is  involved 
in  the  reproduction  as  in  the  presentation  is  confirmed  by 
the  distinction  above  noted  between  a  persistent  presenta- 
tion and  its  revived  image.  The  persistent  presentation  is 
seen,  at  once,  to  depend  upon  the  same  excitation  and  nerve 
process  which  gave  the  percept ;  yet  it  remains  when  the 
object  is  withdrawn.  Hence  we  have  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  revived  image  is  due  to  the  same  nerve 
process,  since  it  differs  from  the  persistent  presentation 
only  in  its  separation  from  the  external  stimulus  by  a  very 
brief  period  of  time.  One  is  a  prolongation  of  the  primary 
state,  the  other  a  restoration  of  it ;  the  former  is  the  con- 
tinuous effect  of  a  continuous  cause,  the  other  the  inter- 
mittent effect  of  an  intermittent  cause. 

Secondary  Aids  to  Reproduction.  There  are  certain 
secondary  conditions  which  tend  to  the  most  ready  repro- 
'  See  chap.  viii.  §  7. 


146  BETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION. 

duction  of  mental  pictures.  In  tlieir  general  nature  thej 
are  almost  identical  with  the  auxiliary  conditions  of  the 
actual  perception  of  objects,  and  so  add  new  evidence  of 
the  identity  of  the  two  classes  of  facts.  Among  them  we 
may  notice  :  a.  Intensity  of  the  nervous  stimulation.  All 
direct  excitants  of  our  nerve  tissue,  as  coffee,  opium,  hash- 
eesh, stimulate  the  reproduction  of  images  and  thus  aid  the 
memory  temporarily.  So  also  any  occurrence  that  excites 
the  nervous  system  as  a  whole,  as  a  blow  on  the  head,  great 
danger,  a  threat  of  death/  b.  The  absence  or  feeble  iiiten- 
sity  of  present  states  of  consciousness.  This  tends  to  throw 
the  attention  upon  the  revived  image,  which  is  ordinarily 
feebler  than  the  present  presentation.  For  this  reason  we 
close  our  eyes  when  trying  to  remember  something,  c.  As 
before,  in  the  case  of  retention,  the  attention  is  the  princi- 
pal aid  to  reproduction.  Representations  must  be  attended 
to,  to  be  apprehended  at  all,  and  after  this,  attention  makes 
them  still  more  distinct.  Indirectly  also,  attention  may  be 
used  to  call  up  representations.  We  think  of  an  object  or 
event  in  some  known  relation  to  the  one  we  wish  to  re- 
member, and  set  a  train  of  association  going  which  secures 
to  us  the  desired  image.  Often,  however,  the  fixing  of  the 
attention  may  hinder  the  memory  seriously,  from  the  fact 
that  it  tends  to  hold  an  image  before  the  mind  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  others  and  so  impedes  the  flow  of  association. 
d.  By  association,  finally,  as  is  seen  later,^  the  function  of 
reproduction  is  given  consistency  and  unity,  and  made 
available  for  the  higher  uses  of  mind. 

Power  of  Imaging.  Tlie  power  of  recalling  mental  pic- 
tures varies  greatly  with  individuals  and  at  different 
periods  of  life.  Images  of  sight  are  most  distinct  and  last- 
ing and  become  our  type  of  memory  pictures  in  general  ; 

'  Hepce,  probably,  the  frequent,  but  not  universal,  experience  of  mi- 
nute memory  of  past  events  when  one  is  in  danger,  as  of  drowning  ; 
generally  it  is  greatly  overstated. 

^  Chap,  xii, 


MENTAL   GROWTH.  U7 

they  arise  also  and  become  fixed  very  earlj^  in  child  life. 
Persons  who  have  this  power  to  a  marked  degree  are 
known  as  having  good  imaginations,  though  simple  revival 
of  images  is  tlie  most  rudimentary  form  of  imagination.  It 
may  be  a  bane  to  the  mental  life  ratlier  than  an  advantage, 
as  in  the  case  of  insistent  and  fixed  ideas.  In  accordance 
with  the  principle  of  attention  already  noticed,  the  images 
of  childhood  are  strongest  in  our  memory.  The  attention 
at  that  period  is  not  burdened  with  details,  and  trivial 
things  are  of  great  interest  and  importance  :  such  images 
are  also  recalled  so  often  in  after  years  that  repetition 
gives  them  great  vividness  and  numberless  associations. 
Many  old  people  are  constantly  led  back  in  conversation  to 
their  childhood,  even  when  memory  of  middle  life  is  fail- 
ing. Galton  has  found  the  farther  remarkable  fact  that  a 
small  proportion  of  persons  have  a  peculiar  mental  scheme 
or  diagram  in  consciousness  in  which  they  arrange  num- 
bers, colors,  etc.,  when  imaging  them.  "  Number  forms  " 
and  other  such  peculiarities  seem  to  be  innate  and  heredi- 
tary. Cases  have  long  been  known  of  individuals  who  at- 
tach particular  colors  to  particular  sounds,  such  as  green, 
blue,  etc.,  to  certain  letters  of  the  alphabet.  Griiber  has 
recently  reported  "disparate  associations"  of  this  kind  be- 
tween sight  and  taste,  sight  and  smell,  sound  and  taste,  etc. 
He  even  finds  in  one  subject  certain  tastes  accompanying 
degrees  of  muscular  exertion,  and  colors  attaching  to  tem- 
perature sensations.' 

Retention  and  Reproduction  as  Mental  Growth.  The 
growth  of  the  mind  through  accumulated  experience  is  a 
matter  of  individual  appreciation.  There  is  a  constant 
enlargement   of   view   and    strength   of  purpose   due    to 

'For  a  typical  "Number  Form"  see  my  Handbook  of  Psyclwl- 
ogy,  vol.  ii.  appendix  C  ;  also  a  variety  of  them  in  Galton 's  Inqui 
ri(S  into  Human  Faculty.  On  the  other  peculiar  facts  mentioned  see 
x\\>o  his  discussious on  "  Mental  Imagery  "  and  "  Color  Associations  " 
\\\  the  same  hook. 


148  RETENTION  AND  REPRODUCTION 

exercise.  Every  mental  experience  leaves  tlie  mind  dif- 
ferent, as  every  physical  change  leaves  the  body  different. 
Tliere  is  a  progressive  develojiment  of  self -hood — a  realiza- 
tion of  mental  possibility  in  the  form  of  actual  life,  which 
gives  individuality  to  the  man  and  colors  his  disposition. 
In  this  sense  all  experience  is  retained  mentall}^,  retained 
in  the  altered  possibilities  which  it  opens  up.  Proceeding 
we  shall  find  that  mental  habits  appear  stronger,  perhaps, 
than  physical,  and  such  habits,  dispositions,  vague  feelings 
of  intellectual  preference  and  aversion  are  the  sum  of  all 
the  elements,  however  minute,  of  our  past. 


CHAPTER  XL 

RECOGNITIOX  AND  LOCALIZATION.* 

§  1.  Recognition. 

Recognition  is  the  tliird  stage  reached  in  the  develop- 
ment of  memory.  Granted  an  image  reproduced,  a  re- 
presentation, it  is  then  recognized.  Representations  are 
"  accompanied,"  says  Locke,  "  with  an  additional  perception 
(feeling)  indicating  that  they  are  not  new,  that  they  liave 
been  before  experienced.  This  is  ordinarily  csiWedrecogni- 
tion^  This  additional  fact  of  recognition,  however,  does 
not  always  accompany  revived  images,  and  by  the  study  of 
the  cases  in  which  it  is  absent  we  are  able  to  learn  wliat 
recoG^nition  is. 

Feeling  of  Familiarity.  In  a  general  view  of  recogni- 
tion from  the  standpoint  of  common  consciousness  it  con- 
sists in  the  feeling  of  familiarity  with  which  an  imageor 
object  affects  us.  We  say  feeling,  since  the  recognition,  in 
itself,  accompanies  the  act  of  knowledge  in  which  the 
object  or  image  is  again  presented  ;  that  is,  repro- 
duction is  assumed  in  recognition.  This  feeling  of  famil- 
iarity is  vague  and  often  misplaced,  and  ordinarily  goes 
unanalyzed. 

Distinction  between  Recognition  of  an  Object  and  of 
an  Image.  The  means  by  which  recognition  arises  vary 
as  the  recognition  is  of  an  object  or  of  an  image.  In  the 
case  of  the  second  perception  of  an  object  its  recognition 
is  probably  accomplished  by  means  of  an  image  which  is 
already  recognized.  We  have  a  comparison  between  the 
percept    and    the    image,   and    feel   them    the    same    or 

'  Cf.  Diy  Handbook  of  Psychology ,  vol.  1.  chap.  x. 
149 


150  RECOGNITION  AND  LOCALIZATION. 

similar.  This  is  seen  to  be  the  case  in  frequent  instances 
in  everyday  life.  If  we  are  asked  whether  an  object  is 
the  same  as  one  seen  before,  we  often  say  we  do  not  know, 
for  we  do  not  remember  how  tlie  former  object  looked  ; 
which  means  that  we  are  unable  to  call  up  and  recognize 
any  image  with  which  the  object  present  may  be  compared. 
In  the  case  of  the  recognition  of  an  image  such  a  procedure 
is  impossible.  It  would  presuppose  another  image  still, 
and  so  on  indefinitely.  The  question,  therefore,  is  nar- 
rowed down  to  the  means  by  which  we  recognize  a  repro- 
duced image.* 

The  recognition  of  an  image  depends  upon  the  degree 
in  vjhich  its  apperceptive  relatio7is  are  re-established.  It  has 
already  been  seen  that  the  reproduction  of  an  image  con- 
sists in  the  reinstatement  of  the  conditions,  physical  or 
mental,  of  the  original  perception.  Such  a  reinstatement 
of  the  conditions  suffices  to  bring  an  image  back  into  con- 
sciousness ;  but  it  is  not  then  necessarily  recognized.  It  is 
only  when  some  of  the  mental  connections — the  relations 
established  among  the  perceptual  elements  by  apperceptive 
attention — are  again  more  or  less  consciously  presented 
that  the  sense  of  familiarity  is  felt.  It  is  necessary  that 
there  be  some  accompanying  conscious  elements  to  which 
the  recognized  elements  are  related.  Often  when  an  image 
arises  in  consciousness  we  do  not  recognize  it  till  we  bring 
back  some  association  with  it.  Often,  also,  we  see  a  face 
and  in  so  far  recognize  it  as  to  feel  vaguelj^  familiar  with 
it ;  while  we  strive  to  bring  up  more  of  its  apperceptive 
connections  in  order  fully  to  identify  it.  This  first  vague 
recognition  is  probably  due  to  the  felt  beginnings  of  the 
revival  of  the  spatial  proportions  of  the  face. 

This  is  further  proved  by  the  fact  that  percepts  which 
are  not  related  in  the  first  presentation — for  example  single 
isolated  sensations,  as  the  stroke  of  a  bell — are  not  recog- 

'  On  theories  of  recognition  see  my  Handbook  of  Psycliology, 
vol.  i.  chap.  X.  §  1. 


THEORY  OF  ilECOGNlTtOX.  151 

nizetl  in  the  representation.  We  say  of  such  presentations 
that  tliere  is  notliing  distinguishing  or  characteristic  about 
thera  whereby  tliey  should  be  recognized.  But  this  is 
only  to  say  that  tliere  were  no  specific  points  of  connection 
between  this  image  and  others,  or  between  the  parts  which 
are  separately  apperceived.  As  soon  as  some  sign  is  made 
of  a  peculiar  kind  in  connection  with  the  image  it  is  recog- 
nized. Recent  experiments  by  Lehmann  on  the  recogni- 
tion of  differences  of  color  strikingly  confirm  this  view. 
Different  shades  of  gray,  which  could  not  be  recognized 
Avhen  seen  quite  alone,  were  recognized  when  they  were 
given  names  beforehand,  or  when  a  number  was  attached 
to  each  in  the  first  perception.  Of  nine  shades  without 
names  or  numbers,  only  forty-six  per  cent,  gave  true 
recognitions  ;  while  the  same  shades,  with  numbers,  gave 
seventy-five  per  cent,  of  correct  identifications.  Here  the 
introduction  of  a  simple  local  relation  in  the  perception 
gave  the  necessary  clew.  The  same  appears  in  the  experi- 
ment noted  above  ;  ^  my  infant  recognized  her  nurse  after 
her  absence  only  when  several  senses  re-enforced  one 
another.  And  further  support  is  derived  from  the  phe- 
nomenon of  so-called  psychic  blindness,  deafness,  etc.,  i.  e., 
recognition  is  absent  in  animals  deprived  of  the  higher 
co-ordinating  brain  centers. 

This  view  of  the  case  also  enables  us  to  take  account  of 
the  subjective  element  of  recognition,  which  is  overlooked 
in  other  theories.  There  is  more  in  recognition  than  the 
sense  of  familiarity  with  an  image.  There  is  the  feeling 
of  ourselves  as  in  familiar  circumstances.  It  is  one's  self 
who  has  been  in  this  state  before.  Tids  feeling  of  self 
develops  largely,  as  we  have  seen,  in  connection  with  active 
attention.  But  attention  is  the  organ  of  the  process  of 
apperception.  Consequently  when  by  reinstatement  of 
this  process  the  fact  of  recognition  is  experienced,  it 
carries  with  it  essentially  the  feeling  of  an  emphasized  self  : 
the  self  of  the  first  apperception  is  again  evident  in  the  self 
'  Above,  chap,  v,  §  3. 


152  RECOGNITION  AND  LOCALIZATION 

of  the  reapperceptioii,  and  the  sense  of  sameness  of  the  ap- 
perceptive content  really  arises  with  the  sense  of  the  same- 
ness of  the  individual  who  has  it.  Recognition  of  the 
image,  therefore,  and  sense  of  personal  identity,  both  rest 
ultimately  in  differences  in  the  amount^  ease,  facility^  good 
adjustment  of  the  attention.^ 

§  2.  Ideal  Pkoduct  of  Recognition  :  Personal  Identity. 

In  the  foregoing  discussion  the  origin  of  the  idea  of 
identity,  in  general,  and  the  identity  of  self,  becomes  clear. 
In  our  feeling  of  personal  identity  it  is  not  self  apart  from 
the  events  in  consciousness  of  which  we  are  conscious  as 
persisting :  it  is  the  consciousness  of  something  which 
abides  in  the  midst  of  these  events  which  constitutes  tliis 
feeling.  It  rests,  first,  upon  reproduction,  since  a  sirigle 
present  experience  does  not  afford  the  duration  or  time 
through  which  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  the  same.  There 
must  be  reproduced  images  with  which  our  present  ex- 
perience is  compared.  But  further,  these  images  must  be 
recognized,  and  must  carry  with  them  that  feeling  of 
familiarity  which  is  afforded  in  the  reinstatement  of  the 
apperceptive  process  of  attention.  This  activity  is  felt  to 
be  my  activity  in  the  second  experience  as  in  the  first,  and 
the  recognition  of  the  I  takes  place  in  virtue  of  this  re- 
peated activity. 

§  3.  Localization  in  Time. 

The  question  as  to  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  time  must 
be  approached,  as  in  the  similar  problem  of  space,  from 
the  standpoint  of  concrete  perception  of  filled  time.  Time 
in  the  abstract  we  do  not  know.  We  experience  time  only 
as  we  experience  events,  definite  and  individual,  in  time. 
We  sometimes  seem  to  apprehend  the  flow  of  pure  time, 
as  in  the  night  we  lie  awake  in  silence,  conscious  of  the 
vacancy  of  our  minds  ;  but  even  then  this  flow  of  time  is 
'  Cf.  below,  chap.  xix.  §  5. 


IDEA    OF  TIME.  153 

marked  off  by  distinct  events — tlie  beating  of  the  heart,  the 
direction  of  attention  to  fragmentary  sentences  or  words 
which  flit  over  our  consciousness  and  are  looked  at  only  to 
be  dismissed. 

The  inquiry  then  seems  to  be  as  to  the  localization  of 
events  in  time,  as  we  have  already  considered  the  local- 
ization of  things  in  space.  There  are  two  general  char- 
acters of  our  notion  of  time  which  are  ordinarily  used  in 
attempting  to  define  the  notion  ;  w^m^Xy,  duration  and  suc- 
cession. These  correspond  in  the  case  of  time,  respectively, 
to  length  and  position  in  the  case  of  space. 

The  terms  of  the  problem  of  localization  in  time  are 
analogous  to  those  of  localization  in  space.  Why  is  it  that 
tlie  experiences  or  events  of  our  inner  life  are  arranged  in 
time  order,  as  before  and  after?  It  is  quite  possible  that 
it  sliould  be  otherwise.  Suppose  a  being  with  no  memoiy 
whatever  ;  to  him  each  event  would  be  now.  There  would 
l)e  no  past  or  future  ;  every  mental  fact  would  be  w^orth  its 
face  value  in  the  present,  with  no  relation  to  other  mental 
facts.  And  again,  granting  the  fact  of  memory,  why  is  it 
that  each  event  takes  its  proper  place  in  the  line  of  time — the 
place  it  occupied  in  the  original  experience  and  no  other  ? 
And  further,  even  though  retained  and  reproduced  in  con- 
sciousness as  a  present  state,  why  does  it  not  simply  remain 
a  factor  in  the  complex  make-up  of  our  present  experience  ? 
In  more  general  terms,  how  are  states  of  consciousness  of 
a  purely  intensive  and  qualitative  nature  projected  and 
localized  in  time  form  ? 

The  answer,  as  before  for  space  perception,  is  this : 
By  a  mental  reconstruction  of  time,  loherehy  conscious  data 
are  interpreted  in  terms  of  succession. 

Data  for  the  Reconstruction  of  Time.  The  data  upon 
■which  the  mental  reconstruction  of  time  proceeds  are  ex- 
ceedingly obscure  ;  the  more  so  because  of  the  differences 
between  this  process  and  that  in  the  case  of  space,  to  which 
it  is  supposed  to  be  analogous.     In  case  of  space  we  have 


1 5  4  RE  GO  GNtTIOK  AND  LOCA  LIZA  TtON. 

iioii-spatiul  senses  to  compare  with  spatial  senses.  But 
with  time  there  is  no  sucli  resource,  and  we  are  unable  to 
iix  upon  facts  as  absolutely  necessary  to  the  idea  of  time, 
as  shown  by  the  absence  of  that  idea  in  their  absence. 
There  are  one  or  two  kinds  of  data,  however,  so  consciously 
involved  in  our  localization  of  objects  in  time  that  they 
may  be  safely  indicated. 

I.  Intensity  as  an  Indication  of  Time.  Upon  con- 
sideration, the  most  evident  characteristic  of  our  past  ex- 
periences is  their  progressive  fading,  as  they  grow  more 
remote.  In  general,  the  last  hour  is  more  distinct  than  its 
predecessor,  and  yesterday  than  the  day  before.  It  maj^ 
therefore  be  stated  as  a  general  rule  that  the  intensity  of  a 
representation  is  a  sign  of  its  locality  in  time,  in  reference 
to  other  representations  brought  with  it  into  consciousness. 
This  rests  upon  the  principle  of  memory,  that — with  cer- 
tain exceptions,  to  be  instanced  later — the  power  of  repro- 
duction and  the  intensity  of  the  reproduced  image  vary 
inversely  as  the  time  elapsed  since  the  original  perception. 
Presentations,  therefore,  experienced  in  the  order  a,  b,  c,  dy 
w^ould  be  reproduced  in  an  order  of  intensity  d,  c,  b,  a  ;  and 
this  inverse  intensive  order  serves  as  a  sign  for  their  mental 
interpretation  in  the  original  time  order  «,  b,  c,  d.  This  is 
further  supported  by  the  fact  that  mistakes  as  to  the  rela- 
tive time  of  events  are  occasioned  by  simple  differences 
in  the  intensity  of  their  reproduction.  Things  which  im- 
pressed us  stronglj^  linger  in  our  memory  and  seem  to  be 
recent,  while  later  events  are  dim  or  forgotten.  More 
intense  images  also  serve  as  rallying  points  or  dates  in  the 
past,  around  which  other  events  are  grouped.  We  date 
many  subsequent  events  from  the  death  of  a  friend,  the 
burning  of  a  house,  or  some  other  great  occurrence. 

The  fact  of  the  interpretation  of  intensities  cannot  be 
deemed  sufficient  in  itself,  however,  for  time  localization. 
If  uncorrected,  the  tendency  to  mistakes  spoken  of  would 
be  a  source  of  continual  illusion.     Of  two  successive  pres- 


IDEA   OF  TIME.  155 

entations  the  stronger  would  always  be  located  last,  what- 
ever might  be  their  real  order.  Hence  we  cannot  stop  here 
with  some,  who  call  these  differences  of  intensive  coloring 
the  "temporal  sign  ";  but  must  seek  some  further  point  of 
reference  in  the  mental  life  for  these,  as  yet,  confused 
representations. 

II.  Movements  of  Attention  as  Indicating  Position 
in  Time.  Although  not  as  clearly  of  simple  import  as  the 
fact  of  intensity,  in  its  relation  to  localization  in  time,  the 
act  of  attention  has  an  undoubted  influence.  From  one 
aspect,  it  assists  and  re-enforces  the  indication  given  by 
intensive  coloring.  Attention  pursues,  in  the  main,  a 
regular  rhythmical  course  and  so  brings  out  clearly  the  in- 
tensive relations  of  successive  mental  facts.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  tends  to  subvert  these  indications,  since  strong 
attention  placed  upon  one  presentation  or  a  series  in- 
creases its  intensity  relatively  to  adjacent  states  of  mind. 
The  former  are  thus  thrown  out  of  their  true  time 
order. 

As  further  evidence  that  the  primary  movement  of  the 
attention  is  of  extreme  import  in  the  genesis  of  the  idea  of 
time,  the  following  facts  may  be  spoken  of.  a.  The  flow 
of  time  seems  accelerated  when  the  attention  is  agreeably 
occupied.  This  is  most  true  when  the  occupation  is  varied 
in  easy  stages,  and  the  active  efforts  of  mind  are  not 
strongly  taxed,  h.  The  flow  of  time  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
impeded  when  the  attention  is  kept  in  a  strained  or  con- 
centrated condition  :  this  is  due  to  weariness  in  the  mental 
life,  which  seems  to  have  an  immediate  influence  upon  our 
time  intuition,  c.  Time  flows  slowly  when  exciting  im- 
pressions follow  in  such  rapid  succession  as  to  leave  the 
attention  in  a  state  of  confusion.  Here  there  is  not  suflicient 
time  for  the  adjustment  of  the  attention  to  the  successive 
excitations,  and  the  perception  of  the  lapse  of  time  is,  as  a 
consequence,  confused,  d.  Time  flows  slowly  when  the 
mind  is  unoccupied.     There  are  no  outstanding  ideas  upon 


156  llECOGNITION  AND  LOCALIZATION. 

which  the  grasping  and  relating  power  of  attention  ma}'" 
seize,  e.  After  a  given  movement  of  attention,  a  future 
movement  over  the  same  series  is  easy,  while  the  rearrange- 
ment of  tlie  series  is  difficult  ;  thus  tlie  absence  of  mental 
effort  is  a  sign  of  temporal  order,  f.  In  dreams,  where  the 
force  of  attention  is  greatly  diminished,  the  sense  of  time  is 
confused  and  mistaken. 

The  least  inference  which  can  be  drawn  from  such  facts 
is  this  :  that  the  varying  states  of  our  attentive  mental  life 
are,  in  some  way,  signs  employed  in  the  mental  reconstruc- 
tion of  time,  i.  e.,  temporal  signs.  These  signs  coexist  with 
those  derived  from  our  passive  sense  experiences,  and  to- 
gether constitute  a  general  class  of  data.  The  intensit}^- 
phases  of  reproduced  presentations,  on  the  one  hand,  seem 
to  bear  especially  upon  the  succession  of  events  in  the  past  : 
we  think  of  succession  by  the  number  of  things  in  time. 
The  phases  of  the  attention  bear  especially  upon  the  feeling 
of  duration  in  the  present  :  we  measure  duration  in  terms 
of  our  own  attentive  adjustment,  as  having  experienced  and 
expecting  to  experience.  Duration  is  the  feeling  of  the 
interval  between  things  in  time.^ 

Mental  Synthesis,  'i'he  difference  between  the  data  and 
their  finished  time  form  is  sinipl}^  the  difference  between 
the  succession  of  ideas  and  the  idea  of  succession.  This 
difference  is  very  great.  As  Bradley  puts  it  :  "  Suppose 
there  is  a  series  of  facts  outside  the  mind,  the  question  re- 
mains. How  can  they  get  in  ?  "^  In  oi'der  to  the  succession 
of  ideas,  only  one  need  be  present  at  a  time,  and  they  need 
have  no  constant  connection.  But  for  the  idea  of  succession 
there  must  be  at  least  two  ideas  before  the  mind,  the  pre- 
ceding and  the  succeeding.  This  involves  the  bringing  up 
of  past  states  to  the  level  of  the  present.  Now  the  mind 
sees  all  its  states  in  this  way — brought  up  to  the  plane  of 

^This  distinction  is  due  to  Dr.  Ward,  "Psychology"  in  Encyc. 
Brit.,  9th  ed. 

'^  Principles  of  Logic,  p.  74. 


umrs  OF  BUB  A  now.  157 

the  present.  I  think  of  four  events  which  happened  in  four 
successive  days.  They  are  all  now  present  to  my  conscious- 
ness, and  it  is  only  my  present  state  of  which  I  am  conscious. 
Of  this  state  «,  ^,  c,  d  are  factors.  How  is  it  that  these 
present  intensive,  qualitative  states  are  projected  in  an  order 
of  time,  the  same  as  their  original  occurrence  ?  How  is  it, 
to  use  Ward's  figure,  that  certain  states  are  thrown  back  in 
a  line  at  right  angles  to  this  plane  of  the  present  ?  "  We 
may,  if  we  represent  succession  as  a  line,  represent  simulta- 
neity as  a  second  line  at  right  angles  to  the  first.  Xow  it 
is  with  the  former  line  that  we  have  to  do  in  treating  of 
time  as  it  is,  and  with  the  latter  in  treating  of  our  intuition 
of  time.  .  .  In  a  succession  of  events,  say  of  sense  impres- 
sions «,  h,  c,  f7,  6,  .  .  .  the  presence  of  h  means  the  absence 
of  a  and  c,  but  the  presentation  of  this  succession  involves 
the  simultaneous  presence,  in  some  mode  or  other,  of  tw^o  or 
more  of  the  presentations  a,  6,  c,  c^."  *  This  is  analogous,  as 
the  same  writer  says,  to  the  projection  of  the  simultaneously 
perceived  points  of  the  visual  field  in  a  line  of  spatial  suc- 
cession, representing  distance. 

It  is  seen  at  once  that  whatever  be  the  qualitative  color- 
ing attaching  to  these  simultaneous  states,  it  can  serve  only 
as  datum  for  their  temporal  discrimination.  If  a  is  located 
as  before  ^,  and  h  as  before  c,  it  can  only  be  through  the 
mental  interpretation  of  some  accompaniment  of  a,  5,  and  c, 
respectively,  by  which  their  temporal  position  is  deter- 
mined. This  interpretation  or  synthesis  is  called  the  inen- 
tal  reconstruction  of  time. 

Units  of  Duration.  If  it  be  true  that  the  sense  of  the 
lapse  of  time  depends  intimately  upon  the  rhythmical 
phases  of  the  attention,  we  would  expect  to  find  units  of 
duration  in  the  flow  of  time  which  would  correspond  with 
these  phases.  Experiments  in  determining  the  area  of  con- 
sciousness show  such  units,  in  the  maximal  length  of  filled 
time  which  we  are  able  to  compass  with  a  single  imme- 
diate intuition.     It  was  stated,  in  speaking  of  the  area  of 

'  Loc.  cit. 


158  RECOGNITION  AND  LOCALIZATION^. 

consciousness,  that  about  twelve  distinct  impressions  of 
sound,  succeeding  one  another  at  intervals  of  .2  to  .3  second, 
could  be  held  in  consciousness  together.  Multiplying  this 
interval  by  the  number  of  ijupressions,  we  have  2.4  to  3.6 
seconds  as  approximately  the  extent  of  our  distinct  unit 
consciousness  of  filled  time.  The  maximal  extent  of  our 
intuition  of  empty  time  or  pure  duration  is  probably  consid- 
erably shorter,  as  is  shown  by  experiments  as  to  the  cor- 
rectness of  our  estimate  of  small  periods  of  time.  It  is 
found  that  we  estimate  correctly  an  empty  period  of  .7  to 
.8  second,  shorter  periods  being  overestimated  and  longer 
periods  made  too  short.  The  images  given  in  this  "unit" 
constitute,  in  contrast  with  ordinary  representations,  our 
so-called  "primary  memory." 

It  is  through  this  unit  consciousness  of  time  that  all  time 
distance  is  estimated.  The  representations  that  it  includes 
constitute  the  plane  of  the  immediate  present,  which  we 
may  consider,  in  reference  to  time,  as  a  circle,  the  earlier 
impressions  in  it  passing  out  at  one  side  and  the  later 
coming  in,  as  a  constant  stream.  Time,  as  we  know  it,  is 
not  a  single  line  of  succession,  but  numerous  lines  giving  a 
certain  number  of  coexistences  in  the  present.  It  is  out  of 
this  circle  of  the  present  that  the  past  is  projected  in  lines 
at  right  angles  to  its  plane,  like  distance  from  the  field  of 
vision.  This  is  but  a  figure  to  aid  our  conception,  but  so 
natural  and  convenient  a  figure  that  we  employ  it  even  in 
unreflective  thinking  :  as  when  we  say,  an  event  is  "so  far 
back,"  or  that  tw^o  events  happened  "  side  by  side."  And 
there  is  no  reason,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  that  intensive 
data  should  be  spoken  of  in  terms  of  tirrie,  rather  than  in 
terms  of  space. ^ 

Perception  of  Time  by  the  Ear.  Of  the  special  senses 
the  ear  is  most  acute  in  the  appreciation  and  measurement 
of  time.     Single  sound  stimuli  are  discriminated  with  great 

'  On  theories  of  time  perception  see  my  Handbook  of  Psychology, 
vol.  i,  chap.  X.  1 3, 


KiynS  OF  MEMORY.  159 

delicacy  and  exactness,  both  of  interval  and  of  duration. 
For  this  reason  hearing  is  called  the  sense  for  the  per- 
ception  of  time.  Its  function,  in  this  respect,  is  similar  to 
that  of  sight  for  space.  It  makes  more  exact  and  definite 
the  vague  time  series  reported  first,  probably,  by  the  mus- 
cular sense  and  later  by  the  other  senses.  This  delicacy"  of 
time  perception  underlies  the  pauses  of  speech,  the  quan- 
tity of  vowel  sounds,  the  metric  flow  of  poetry,  and,  more 
than  all,  the  rhythm  and  technical  "time"  of  music. 

§  4.  Ideal  Product  of  Temporal  Localization  :    Idea 
OF  Time. 

From  the  conception  of  co-ordinated  events  in  the  form 
of  past  time  we  pass  by  abstraction  to  the  idea  of  time: 
that  is,  we  pass  from  filled  to  empty  time.  The  point  of 
immediate  experience  is  called  the  present,  in  relation  to 
the  past,  and  the  whole  possibility  of  additional  experience 
is  called  the  future.  The  future,  therefore,  is  not  time  at 
all,  as  the  past  is  not :  it  is  simply  the  anticipation  of  more 
experience  like  that  already  placed  in  the  past.  The 
finished  product,  the  idea  of  time,  is  of  late  growth  in  the 
mental  life  of  the  child. 

§  5.  Kinds  of  Memory  :  Local,  Logical. 

We  have  found  memory,  viewed  entirely  from  the  sub- 
jective side,  to  be  the  revival  of  an  image  in  its  network 
of  relations  w4th  other  images.  Things  are  remembered  in 
groups,  as  they  were  at  first  perceived.  This  involves  the 
variety  of  relations  which  are  possible  in  apperception. 
The  kinds  of  relations  thus  reproduced  serve  to  aid  us  in 
distinguishing  between  different  kinds  of  memory.  For 
example,  an  image  may  carry  with  it  the  local  connections 
of  its  first  perception  ;  that  is,  its  locality  was  the  promi- 
nent feature  of  its  apperception.  Such  memory  is  called 
local  memory.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  memorize  long 
Sentences  by  the  positioj:t  on  a  printed  or  written  page,  qv 


160  RECOGNITIOy  AND  LOCALIZATION. 

the  parts  and  ornaments  of  a  room.  These  memories  are 
fleeting  and  temporary,  generally,  from  the  fact  that  local 
relations  are  accidental,  and  do  not  belong  necessarih'  to 
the  objects  remembered.  It  is  only  as  long  as  we  can  re- 
produce the  whole  page  that  we  oan  recall  the  part  desired. 
The  same  also  is  true  of  temporal  memories.  Bej^ond  these 
extrinsic  or  accidental  relations  we  find  others  which  are 
essential.  Cause  and  effect,  substance  and  property,  whole 
and  parts,  are  such  relations.  Memory  by  means  of  these 
is  called  logical  memory.  It  is  more  permanent  and  valu- 
able than  local  memory,  from  the  fact  that  these  relations 
always  subsist,  and  the  related  image  is  always  suggested, 
when  that  to  which  it  is  related  is  capable  of  being  pre- 
sented. It  is  seen  at  once  that  logical  memories  should  be 
cultivated  rather  than  local,  and  that  the  latter,  except 
when  only  temporary  acquisition  is  desired,  should  be 
avoided. 


COMBINATION. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ASSOCIATION.! 
§  1.  General  Nature  of  Association. 

Definition  of  Association.  In  the  foregoing  chapters 
reference  has  been  repeatedly  made  to  tlie  principle  of 
"association  of  ideas";  indeed  some  knowledge  of  such  a 
principle  is  so  generally  implied  in  the  affairs  of  life  that 
its  familiarity  has  been  assumed.  Tlie  truth  that  things 
owe  their  cliaracter  to  their  associations,  that  men  are  in- 
fluenced, by  their  associates,  is  only  a  broader  application 
of  the  law  which  takes  its  rise  in  the  mental  life. 

The  conditions  under  wliich  the  revival  of  mental  im- 
ages in  general  is  possible  have  been  stated.  It  proceeds 
upon  a  renewal  of  the  nervous  action  which  accompanied 
the  first  perception,  and  the  reinstatement  of  the  original 
apperceptive  act  with  a  sufficient  intensity  and  duration. 
This,  however,  does  not  suffice  to  infor?n  us  what  it  is  that 
gives  specific  direction  to  the  flow  of  reproduced  states. 
Why  is  it  that  among  an  infinite  number  of  possible  repro- 
ductions a  particular  representation  rather  than  others  is 
revived?  This  question  indicates  the  tiwe  function  of  associ- 
ation, which  is  the  progressive  revinal  of  particular  mental 
states.  Tlie/«e^  of  association  may  also  be  defined  as  the 
relation  hetxceen  revived  states  of  consciousness, icherehy  con- 
tinuity of  successive  representation  is  secured  in  the  form  of 
neio  integrated  states.     This  we  must  fully  explain. 

'  Cf.  my  Handbook  of  Psych)lofjy,  vol.  i.  chap,  xi. 

161 


162  ASSOCIATION. 

Ground  or  Reason  of  Association :  the  Preceding  Idea. 
If  we  thus  conceive  of  association,  as  the  law  of  the  con- 
nection of  rej)resentations  in  consciousness,  and  picture  the 
series  of  such  representations,  the  nature  of  the  connection 
in  each  case  is  seen  to  lie  in  the  character  of  the  antecedent 
image.  For  example,  I  am  thinking  at  this  instant  of  the 
rain  ;  and  why  ?  Because  I  have  seen  the  heavens  covered 
with  clouds.  I  have  an  idea  of  thunder  because  I  have 
just  seen  a  flash  of  lightning.  I  think  of  Napoleon  because 
I  have  already  thought  of  Caesar  or  Alexander.  In  each 
such  case  the  idea  at  present  before  me  is  determined  b}^ 
the  idea  which  immediately  preceded  it.  If  the  antecedent 
idea  had  been  different,  so  would  also  the  subsequent  idea. 
If,  for  example,  I  had  thought  of  Socrates  instead  of  Alex- 
ander, it  is  altogether  improbable  that  Napoleon  would 
have  come  to  mind.  There  are  no  states  of  mind  which 
can  be  com^jletely  isolated  from  this  chain  of  connected 
links.  Our  whole  mental  life  is  a  progressive  series  of 
integrations  of  ideas. 

Physiological  Basis  of  Association.  In  speaking  of  the 
pliysiological  habits  which  lie  at  the  basis  of  retention  we 
had  occasion  to  point  out  the  complex  nature  of  the  dispo- 
sitions or  tendencies  in  the  mental  life  to  which  they  give 
rise.  We  may  suppose  both  associative  connections  be- 
tween localities  or  elements  in  the  cerebral  cortex,'  and  the 
multiplication  of  these  connections,  in  an  intricate  network 
of  fibrous  and  cellular  tissue.  Considering  these  connec- 
tions as  constituting  the  organic  counterpart  of  tlie  asso- 
ciated mental  life,  we  see  at  once  the  wide  capacity  it 
affords  for  varied  and  related  representation.  The  stimulus 
of  a  single  element  in  the  network  arouses  many  connec- 
tions: first  those  best  established  and  oftenest  repeated, 
then  others  in  varying  degrees  of  strength  of  revival.  For 
example,  we  may  suppose  the  memories  involved  in  the 
sight,  touch,  sound,  written  signs,  and  spoken  word  of  a 
bell  to  be  thus  connected.  The  presentation  of  a  bell  to 
*  Above,  chap.  iii. 


LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION.  163 

view  revives  at  once  no  less  than  five  different  memories  : 
the  muscular  memories  involved  in  speaking  the  word  bell, 
the  word  as  heard  when  spoken  and  seen  when  written,  the 
sound  of  the  striking  of  the  bell,  and  its  hard,  smooth 
touch.  These  come  up  in  varying  degrees  of  readiness, 
according  as  we  are  accustomed  to  exercise  them  respect- 
ively in  our  experience  with  bells.  Other  more  indistinct 
memories,  such  as  the  church  spire,  dining  rooms,  crowd 
in  upon  us,  each  having  its  correlative  accompaniment  in 
the  brain  activities.  The  basis,  therefore,  of  association  is 
the  same  as  that  of  retention,  and  admits  of  the  same 
physiological  explanation;  that  is  to  say,  the  mere  possi- 
bility of  association  in  revived  states  is  provided  for  in  the 
physiological  retention  of  the  related  molecular  changes 
occasioned  at  their  first  experience.  The  actual  revival, 
however,  as  remembered  states,  is  mental,  as  reproduction 
and  recognition  are  mental.  For  this  reason  the  laws  of 
association  are  unconscious  until  critical  examination  of 
the  nature  of  associated  states  reveals  them. 

§  2.  Laws  of  Association. 

I.  Particular  or  Secondary  Laws.  "  When  we  seek," 
says  Aristotle,  "  after  an  idea  which  is  not  immediately 
before  us,  we  reach  it  through  the  mediation  of  another 
idea,  either  by  resemblance,  or  contrast,  or  contiguity.^''  ^ 
Modern  psychologists  generally  follow  Aristotle  in  this 
enumeration  of  the  principles  of  association,  at  least  as 
respects  resemblance  and  contiguity.  Deferring  the  dis- 
cussion of  contrast,  we  may  state  two  great  laws  of  asso- 
ciation, depending  upon  the  two  classes  into  which,  in 
introspection,  the  facts  of  the  case  seem  to  fall. 

In  the  first  place  images  are  associated.  That  is,  one 
of  two  or  more  states,  all  of  which  are  reproductions,  pre- 
cedes and  brings  up  the  others.  The  face  of  a  friend, 
whom  I  recall,  recalls  the  place  and  time  of  our  last  meet- 
'  Quoted  by  Rabier,  P»ychologie,  p.  184. 


164  ASSOCIATION. 

ing.  On  the  other  hand,  a  new  experience,  a  presentation, 
may  bring  up  images  of  the  past.  My  new  acquaintance 
recalls  some  one  of  my  old  friends.  These  two  classes  of 
facts  exhaust  the  range  of  association.  In  the  first  of  the 
two  cases  the  images  which  come  up  together  have  been 
together  in  the  mind  before  ;  this  is  contiguity.  Whatever 
their  former  relation  to  each  other  may  liave  been,  when 
we  experienced  them,  whether  cause  and  effect,  whole  and 
parts,  or  any  other  of  the  relations  the  mind  discovers,  it 
matters  not ;  it  is  sufficient  that  they  have  been  present 
before  in  consciousness,  as  contiguous  in  time.  In  tlie 
second  case  the  presentation  which  tends  to  recall  the 
image  is  always  seen  to  be  like  the  latter  in  some  respect ; 
this  is  resemblance.  Resemblance  to  an  image — again  dis- 
regarding contrast — is  the  only  characteristic  of  a  presenta- 
tion, which  serves  as  ground  for  the  immediate  revival  of 
that  image. 

The  two  particular  or  secondary  laws  of  association 
may,  in  accordance  with  the  preceding,  be  formulated 
somewhat  as  follows  : 

1.  Contiguity :  Ideas  which  have  been  apperceived 
together  are  reproduced  under  the  same  apperceptive 
relations. 

2.  Resemblance:  A  presentation  which  in  any  way 
resembles  an  image  tends  to  cause  the  reproduction  of 
that  image,  with  its  related  images. 

It  should  be  noted  that  it  is  only  a  new  presentation  to 
which  the  law  of  resemblance  can  be  said  to  apply  as  tend- 
ing to  revive  past  images.  As  soon  as  the  presentation 
is  repeated  its  resemblance  to  the  revived  image  is  not 
emphasized  in  the  reproduction,  but  the  fact  that  the 
image  which  its  former  perception  has  left  behind  has  once 
coexisted  with  the  image  suggested  at  that  time,  makes  it 
a  case  of  contiguity.  For  example,  I  meet  a  man  B,  and  I 
think  of  my  friend  A,  whom  he  resembles.  After  that 
|,l:e  two  images  are  associated  together  b^y  reason  of  the 


LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION.  165 

contiguity  tlius  established  ;  so  that  when  I  see  B  again 
tlie  resemblance  is  not  necessary  to  the  suggestion,  tliough 
it  still  strikes  rae,  and  is  known  to  be  the  cause  of  the  first 
association.  In  this  case  the  repeated  perception  adds 
vividness  and  strength  to  the  association,  since  the  reality 
of  the  object  passes  over  in  a  measurQ  to  the  image  which 
it  calls  up. 

Tliis  reduction  of  a  large  class  of  cases  of  seeming  resem- 
blance to  contiguity  is  a  step  toward  the  elimination  of 
resemblance  altogether,  as  an  ultimate  ground  of  associa- 
tion. Further,  while  we  hold  that,  from  an  empirical  stand- 
point, resemblance  is  an  evident  and  real  reason  for  the 
connection  between  ideas,  and  must  be  recognized  as  such, 
still,  on  reflection,  we  find  it  possible  to  reduce  all  cases  of 
resemblance,  in  their  ultimate  nature,  to  contiguity.  In 
every  case  of  resemblance  between  a  presentation  and  the 
image  it  suggests,  there  may  be  said  to  be  elements  com- 
mon to  the  two  :  elements  in  the  present  presentation 
which  affect  us  in  an  identical  way  with  elements  in  the 
image  which  it  resembles.  In  a  strange  portrait,  which  we 
say  resembles  a  friend,  there  are  certain  points  of  feature 
or  expression,  few  or  many,  which  are  identical  with  our 
friend's  :  these  points  coexist  with  others  in  the  image  of 
our  friend,  and  the  whole  image  is  brought  up  by  this  co- 
existence or  contiguity.  In  the  presentation  there  are,  say, 
elements  a,  h,  c,  etc.,  and  in  the  image,  elements  A,  J,  C  ; 
the  common  element  b  makes  the  presence  of  both  neces- 
sary. Taine  formulates  a  law  to  express  this  process  of 
association:  lVhe?i  jjart  of  an  idea  appears  in  conscious- 
ness the  lohole  appears.  It  may  be  added  that  the  common 
emotion  accompanying  a  presentation  and  a  memory  may 
supply  the  point  of  identity  between  them. 

The  great  importance  of  the  law  of  contiguity  in  oppo- 
sition to  resemblance  is  further  emphasized  by  the  experi- 
ments of  Lehmann  already  spoken  of  above.*  The  simple 
addition  of  a  mark,  number,  or  name  to  the  several  shades 

*  See  p.  151. 


16G  ASSOCIATION. 

of  worsted  aided  the  memory  by  contiguity,  when  the 
resemblances  of  the  pieces  to  one  another  were  too  great 
for  distinction.  From  all  the  variations  in  his  experiments 
lie  draws  the  conclusion  that  "  the  law  that  best  explains 
the  facts  is  the  lavr  of  adjacency,  in  opposition  to  the  law 
of  similarity." 

Association  by  Contrast.  Since  Aristotle  various 
thinkers  have  cited  contrast  as  a  distinct  principle  of 
association.  It  seems  warranted  at  first  sight  by  a  variety 
of  well-marked  experiences.  The  sight  of  a  dwarf  brings 
up  a  giant,  a  bright  color  recalls  strongly  contrasted'colors, 
sour  makes  one  think  of  sweet.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  in 
such  cases  of  contrast,  of  the  reality  of  the  association  ; 
but  are  there  not  other  reasons  than  that  of  contrast  to 
which  it  may  be  referred  ?  There  are  such  reasons,  it 
seems,  in  all  cases,  and  we  are  led  to  reduce  these  associa- 
tions to  resemblance,  and  ultimately  to  contiguity. 

1.  In  most  cases  of  contrast  there  is  a  standard  of  refer- 
ence to  which  both  the  presentation  and  the  revived 
image  are  referred  :  this  standard  constitutes  a  point  com- 
mon to  both  ideas,  a  point  of  resemblance.  For  example, 
the  short  man  suggests  the  tall,  since  both  are,  at  once, 
thought  of  in  comparison  with  an  average  man.  The  one  is 
short  only  as  he  is  shorter  than  usual,  and  the  other  is  tall 
only  as  he  is  taller  than  usual.  Thus  in  the  very  concep- 
tion of  the  contrasted  images  a  common  element  enters. 
This  common  element  is  the  b  of  our  earlier  illustration, 
and  secures  the  association  by  contiguity.  .  This  variation 
from  a  normal  standard  accounts  also  for  the  association  of 
emotional  and  volitional  states,  as  great  misery  with  great 
happiness,  great  effort  with  complete  inertness.  v 

2.  Many  instances  of  contrast  arise  from  the  early  charac- 
ter of  our  knowledge  acquisitions.  The  beginnings  of 
knowledge  involve,  as  has  been  seen,  a  process  of  distin- 
guishing or  differentiation  :  things  are  fixed  and  defined  in 
relation  to  other  things.     This  tends  to  fix  in  CjHX  minds 


UNIVERSAL  OR  PRIMARY  LAW.  167 

many  instances  of  contrast.  In  early  education  tlie  child 
is  taught  to  appreciate  qualities  in  some  objects  by  having 
pointed  out  to  him  the  conspicuous  absence  of  these  quali- 
ties in  other  objects,  until  it  becomes  a  mental  habit.  All 
such  primary  connecting  of  contrasted  things  takes  place 
among  contiguous  states,  and  frequent  repetition  confirms 
the  association.  If  we  had  only  seen  regular  oval  leaves 
they  would  have  no  contrasted  associations  ;  but  having 
once  been  led  to  observe  leaves  which  are  very  indentate, 
the  contrast  at  once  presents  itself  afterward  ;  but  the 
association  is  due  primarily  to  the  contiguity  thus  estab- 
lished. 

3.  It  is  also  true  that  there  is  an  emotional  coloring  in 
cases  of  contrast,  as  in  resemblance,  which  supplies  a  con- 
necting point  of  similarity.  Vague  analogies  which  are 
stronger  by  reason  of  inherent  contrasts,  and  contrasts 
which  are  brought  out  by  an  underlying  analogy,  occasion 
a  repetition  of  an  affective  state,  which  ties  together  the 
members  of  the  relation.  For  example,  a  three-handed 
monstrosity  brings  to  mind  a  one-handed  monstrosity,  and 
all  the  circus  oddities  we  have  ever  heard  of  come  to  mind  ; 
simply  because  they  are  all  monstrosities,  they  excite  in  us 
a  common  feeling  of  repulsion.  They  resemble  one  another 
in  the  fact  of  variation  from  normal  nature,  and  in  the 
common  emotion  this  variation  excites.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  states  which  involve  similar  volitional  accom- 
paniments. 

It  seems  true,  therefore,  that  all  cases  of  association 
by  contrast  may  be  accounted  for  as  either  variations  from 
a  mental  standard,  contiguities  observed  and  established  in 
the  process  of  the  acquisitioji  of  knowledge,  or  emotional  and 
volitional  resemblances. 

II.  Universal  or  Primary  Law.  One  great  principle 
of  associative  reproduction  has  been  found  in  contiguity 
by  succession,  its  special  forms  being  simple  contiguity, 
resemblance,  and  contrast.     The  tendency  to  association 


168  ASSOCIATION. 

by  this  law  is  greatly  strengthened  by  other  factors,  whose 
consideration  leads  to  the  underlying  principle  of  all  asso- 
ciation. If  such  contiguity  were  the  whole  case  only  the 
physical  side  of  memory,  that  is,  retention,  would  be  opera- 
tive in  the  reproduction  ;  and  our  memories  would  present 
the  uniform  sequences  and  regular  fadings  which  physical 
dispositions  undergo.  The  peculiarities  of  personal  men- 
tal life,  the  characteristics  of  individuals,  which  are  so 
striking  in  the  varieties  of  form  and  content  of  memory, 
would  be  greatly  reduced.  •  But  such  a  supposition  is  im- 
possible, since  memory  is  mainly  mental,  as  perception  is. 
It  is  an  active  synthetic  process  of  constructing  relations. 
Apperception,  therefore,  is  the  power  which  gives  defini- 
tive cast  to  our  associations,  and  supplies  the  lack  we  liave 
spoken  of.  The  relations  discovered  in  apperception  in 
their  variety,  and  in  their  intensive  phases,  give  char- 
acter and  deeper  meaning  to  contiguous  experiences. 

Law  of  Correlation :  Every  association  of  mental  states 
is  an  integration,  clue  to  the  previous  correlation  of  these 
states  in  apperception.  The  relations  which  we  discover 
among  the  objects  of  our  perception  are  very  varied,  and 
many  attempts  have  been  made  to  classify  tliem.  Besides 
the  relations  of  time  and  resemblance  which  have  already 
found  their  place  in  association  by  contiguitj^,  the  principal 
connections  which  the  intelligence  finds  among  its  objects 
are  suhordination,  causation,  and  design.  The  relation  of 
subordination  has  various  applications,  as  whole  and  parts, 
substance  and  accident,  and  underlies,  as  will  be  seen,  the 
use  of  the  notions  of  genus  and  species  in  the  operations 
of  reasoning.  The  real  logical  import  of  this  relation 
is  onlj^  apprehended  after  the  formation  of  general 
notions  and  the  growth  of  mind  on  its  logical  side.  In 
early  childhood  it  is  simply  apperceived  as  contiguity. 
Causation  also,  in  its  completed  form,  involves  the  ideas  of 
necessity  and  potency,  which  give  it  the  form  of  a  univer^ 
sal  relation  between  given  data,  while  in  child  life  it  is 


nmVERSAL   OR  PnlMARY  LAW.  169 

simply  successions  of  efforts  and  resistances.  Design  arises, 
even  later  in  life,  since  it  involves  more  seldom  the  simple 
fact  of  contiguity,  and  requires  a  larger  stretch  of  expe- 
rience for  its  generalization. 

The  very  great  value  of  correlations  in  our  past  expe- 
rience is  apparent  without  amplification.  Mere  contiguity 
in  time  may  fade  and  disappear,  when  a  relation  remains 
intact.  For  example,  all  the  circumstances  surrounding  the 
first  perception  of  a  match,  the  time,  persons,  manner  of 
striking,  material  lighted,  are  long  since  forgotten  ;  but 
the  effect,  a  blaze  of  fire,  is  remembered.  The  elements  of 
potency  and  necessitj^,  peculiar  to  causation  and  foreign  to 
mere  contiguity,  are  in  this  case  the  means  of  memory. 
Correlation  is,  for  the  mental  life,  the  essential  thing. 
This  has  already  been  pointed  out  in  the  section  on  "  kinds 
of  memory";^  and  the  reason  for  it  is  that  contiguity, 
which  is  merely  the  mental  correlative  of  the  physical  proc- 
ess, is  supplemented  by  movements  of  the  attention  w^hich 
give  to  our  successive  states  an  essential  inner  connec- 
tion, corresponding  to  the  relations  of  external  things. 

Examples  readil}^  suggest  themselves  of  memories  which 
show  this  difference.  We  remember  a  string  of  foreign 
meaningless  words  only  as  long  as  the  actual  sounds  persist 
in  consciousness.  But  if  we  detect,  in  the  sounds,  simi- 
larities to  words  in  our  own  tongue,  they  remain  longer  in 
memory  through  this  relation.  But  as  before,  it  is  only 
after  the  words  assume  meaning  and  sense  to  us  that  they 
become  permanent  acquisitions.  McCosh  tells  the  story  of 
a  clergyman  who  asked  a  sailor  boy  to  box  the  compass 
backward,  which  he  readily  did  from  the  correlations  of 
the  points  of  direction  with  one  another — they  had  the 
same  meaning  both  wa3'S  ;  but  when  the  boy  retorted  by 
asking  the  clergyman  to  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer  back- 
ward the  clergyman  was  defeated.  In  the  latter  case 
the  words  had  no  correlations  or  meaning,  and  tlfeir  simple 
contiguity  was  not  sufficient  for  menlor^^ 
'  See  p.  159. 


170  ASSOCIATION. 

Interest^  as  Influencing  Association.  Aiiotlitr factor 
which  influences  greatly  the  direction  and  character  of  our 
associations  is  found  in  individual  interests  and  talents. 
As  a  general  thing  our  preferences  take  the  direction  of 
our  talents.  Individuals  diifer  notably  in  the  manner  in 
which  tlie  same  experiences  impress  them,  and  in  the  re- 
lations they  discover  under  the  same  external  conditions. 
An  artist  sees  the  red  evening  sk}^  with  feelings  only  of 
beauty  and  pleasure,  while  the  farmer  discovers  in  it  prob- 
abilities of  ruin  to  his  crops.  The  student  of  a  practical 
and  utilitarian  cast  of  mind  cherishes  his  books  only  as  a 
means  of  increasing  his  chances  of  success  or  usefulness 
in  life,  while  his  more  ideal  neighbor  studies  to  secure  a 
broader  mental  range  or  an  acquaintance  wath  deeper  truths 
for  their  own  sake.  In  this  there  is  an  immediate  intrusion 
of  the  prevailing  temperament  into  the  web  of  daily  ex- 
perience, carrying  the  attention  and  effort  over  upon 
specific  relations  of  things ;  which  tends  in  its  turn  to  fix 
these  correlations  in  mind  and  thus  to  heighten  the  dispo- 
sition in  its  peculiarity.  Interest  gives  direction  to  asso- 
ciations, and  associations  becoming  fixed  give  permanence 
to  interest.  In  general  it  may  be  said  tliat  mental  work 
is  most  successful  when  done  along  the  line  of  inclination. 

It  may  be  well  to  point  out  the  danger  arising  from  the 
free  play  of  this  law  of  association.  Free  exercise  in  the 
line  of  inclination,  to  tlie  exclusion  of  other  well-directed 
mental  exertion,  tends  to  develop  great  disproportion  in 
the  growth  of  mind,  especially  in  childhood.  Children 
sliould  not  be  allowed  to  choose  their  mental  pursuits.  The 
disciplinary  value  of  compulsory  application  to  things 
which  are  distasteful  is  readily  seen  in  the  increased  flexi- 
bility of  the  attention,  greater  voluntary  control  of  the 
intellectual  impulses,  and  the  broadening  of  the  mental 
horizon.  It  is  only  after  these  qualities  and  capabilities 
have  been  already  attained  by  a  well-balanced  course  of 

*  On  the  general  psycliology  of  interest  see  below,  chap.  xix.  §  1. 


Fonm  OF  ASSOCIATION'.  171 

compulsory  training  tliat  the  student  should  be  allowed  to 
devote  himself  to  a  more  contracted  circle  of  studies. 

§  3.  Forms  of  Associatiox. 

Association  by  contiguity  takes  two  great  forms  when 
regarded  in  reference  to  the  objects  or  events  from  which 
our  mental  states  arise.  These  events  or  objects  may  co- 
exist in  time  or  space,  or  they  may  be  successive  in  time. 
Thus  distinguished  we  have  association  by  Coexistence 
and  by  Succession.  When  we  come,  however,  to  consider 
that  it  is  not  objects  which  are  associated,  but  our  mental 
states,  and  that,  in  reproduction,  these  states  must  be 
projected  in  a  time  series  whose  form  is  always  suc- 
cession, w^e  find  that  coexistence  of  objects  gives  rise  to 
succession  of  ideas.  That  this  is  true  is  seen  from  an  ex- 
amination of  the  two  possible  kinds  of  coexistence  in  space 
and  time.  Objects  which  coexist  in  space,  as  has  been 
already  seen,  are  apperceived  by  a  rapid  shifting  of  the  at- 
tention, the  maximal  unit  of  immediate  apprehension,  for 
sounding  bodies,  being  about  twelve  distinct  stimuli,  each  of 
which  may  be  itself  separately  apperceived,  and  for  sight 
about  five  to  seven,  which  are  given  as  one.  For  the  other 
senses  this  range  is  still  more  contracted.  Each  such  apper- 
ceptive unit  constitutes  a  single  presentation,  capable  of 
reproduction  only  as  a  whole,  as  one  image,  and  not  as 
a  number  of  coexisting  images  :  consequently  the  next 
image  brouglit  up  is  that  to  which  the  attention  was  next 
shifted,  and  the  representation  of  all  sensation  arising  from 
external  stimuli  must  be  in  the  form  of  succession.  For 
example,  after  looking  at,  say,  twenty  crosses  on  a  black- 
board, I  reproduce  them  as  four  successive  representations 
of  five  crosses  each,  or  in  a  longer  series  of  smaller  units, 
the  single  crosses  in  each  unit  being  reproduced  not  as  co- 
existent images,  but  as  components  of  the  unit  image  of 
five.  If  they  are  reproduced  as  single  crosses  it  is  in  suc- 
cession, arising  either  from  the  apperception  of  each  cross 


172  ASSOCIATION 

separately,  or  from  the  information  that  the  crosses  are  all 
alike,  which  information  takes  the  place  of  our  own  ex- 
ploration. So,  however  rejDroducecl,  the  representation 
arises  from  succession. 

Passing  to  coexistence  in  time  the  same  is  found  to  be 
true.  Experiences  which  happen  contemporaneously  are 
reproduced  in  a  single  complex,  as  one  image,  and  not  as 
a  plurality  of  images  present  together.  For  example,  a 
musical  chord  is  reproduced  in  its  effect,  as  one  thing,  the 
whole  giving  a  single  modification.  It  is  true  we  may 
analyze  this  complex  into  its  elements,  but  such  an  analysis 
proceeds  upon  a  previous  anal^^sis  of  the  actual  presentation; 
so  that  the  factors  comprised  have  really  been  presented 
in  succession.  Suppose  upon  hearing  the  chord  at  first  I 
distinguished  in  the  whole  effect  four  tones  ;  the  act  of 
distinguishing  or  relating  these  tones  depends  upon  succes- 
sive acts  of  attention.  And  in  so  doing,  the  separate  tone 
stimuli  remain  no  longer  coexistent,  but  are  successive. 

Thus  we  hold  that  the  one  form  of  contiguous  reproduc- 
tion is  Succession.  This  we  would  expect  from  what  has 
already  been  found  to  be  the  plij^sical  basis  of  memor3\ 
Mental  reproduction  was  seen  to  depend  upon  the  persist- 
ence of  physical  changes  in  tlie  form  of  pln'siological 
tendencies  toward  a  series  of  successive  brain  changes; 
these  have  their  mental  accompaniment  in  the  succession 
of  conscious  states  under  the  law  of  association.  By 
the  law  of  cause  and  effect  these  brain  changes  are  a 
series  in  time,  the  terms  being  sometimes  complex 
physically;  but  giving  a  result  in  consciousness  which 
is  a  single  mental  state,  and  not  a  coexisting  pluralit}" 
of  states.  If  consciousness  be  one,  and  liave  but  one 
center,  these  changes  can  only  constitute  for  consciousness 
one  modification  at  a  time,  the  result  being  a  single  pres- 
entation. The  presentations  thus  arising  are  thrown  into 
successive  form  by  the  rhythmic  activity  of  attention, 
under  the  limitation  fixed  by  our  units  of  duration.'  If 
'  See  p.  157. 


COMPLEX  ASSOCIATIONS.  1*73 

these  units  of  duration  were  longer  or  shorter  the  succes- 
sion of  our  ideas  would  be  slower  or  faster. . 

Complex  Associations.  The  complex  character  of  the 
physical  tendencies  which  underlie  associations  has  already 
been  remarked.  It  is  impossible  to  isolate  a  single  track 
of  nervous  connection  from  the  general  network  of  elements 
which  constitute  the  ground  of  all  mental  reaction  :  and 
the  difficulty  is  almost  as  great  in  regard  to  mental  phe- 
nomena. The  idea  which  we  find  associated  with  a  preceding 
state  is  only  one,  in  most  cases,  of  a  great  number  of  lines 
of  mental  direction  which  are  open  for  our  pursuit.  And 
this  complexity  is  enhanced  when  we  remember  that  the 
first  idea  is  itself  only  one  of  the  numerous  associative 
progeny  of  other  states  antecedent  to  it.  These  so-called 
lines  of  direction — pursuing  the  figure  of  a  field  of  con- 
sciousness to  which  these  lines  would  be  perpendicular — 
all  tend  outward  from  a  given  point.  For  example,  the 
year  1492  suggests  the  discovery  of  America,  the  great 
events  of  tiie  Italian  Renaissance,  the  Humanistic  move- 
ment, and  the  Exodus  of  the  children  of  Israel,  together 
with  any  or  many  individual  associations  which  may  have 
been  formed  with  it,  such  as  the  dates  of  other  great 
geographical  discoveries.  Now  in  the  revival  of  this  net- 
work of  relations  the  richness  of  its  associations  may  serve 
as  a  help  or  as  a  hindrance  to  memory,  according  as  the 
order  of  the  revival  be  a  converging  or  a  diverging  associa- 
tion. 

I.  Converging  Associations.  In  the  converging  associa- 
tion the  mind  enters  upon  one  of  many  paths,  all  of  wiiich 
lead  to  the  same  result.  This  is  the  great  resource  of 
memory  in  cases  of  voluntary  recollection.  "We  cast  about 
in  consciousness  for  some  idea  related  to  the  image  we  wish 
to  call  up,  and  the  probability  of  our  finding  such  a  path- 
way to  the  goal  depends  upon  the  number  of  mental  rela- 
tions which  have  been  formed  around  it.  In  case  I  wish  to 
;-ecall  the  date  1492  J  have  only  to  think  of  anv  one  of  th^ 


1V4  ASSOCIATION. 

events  mentioned  which  are  associated  with  it,  since  they 
all  converge  in  their  lines  of  suggestion  to  the  one  result. 
II.  Dwerging  Associations.  In  this  case  the  process  is 
reversed  and  the  me;nory  is  hindered  and  embarrassed  by 
its  possible  alternatives.  If  I  wish  to  remember  the  date 
of  the  invention  of  gunpowder,  and  can  only  do  so  through 
its  association  with  the  date  1492,  I  am  liable,  in  the 
absence  of  all  other  means  of  help,  to  go  after  it  in  con- 
nection with  the  Exodus,  or  au}^  other  of  the  divergent 
lines  of  association,  and  can  perhaps  only  reach  the  true 
result,  after  liaving  exhausted  these  possibilities  by  return- 
ing again  and  again  to  the  central  idea. 

§  4.  Force  of  Association. 

From  the  preceding  remarks  the  influences  which  tend 
to  give  force  and  permanence  to  an  association  are  readily 
seen.  On  the  one  hand,  the  physiological  dispositions 
which  render  reproduction  possible,  are  made  strong  and 
lasting  in  the  nervous  structui-e  by  frequent  repetition  of 
the  stimulus.  Just  to  the  degree  of  the  repetition,  as  we 
should  expect,  is  tlie  association  strengthened  and  made 
facile.  This  repetition,  we  may  suppose,  often  takes  place 
in  dreams.  After  seeing  an  object  two  or  three  times  the 
danger  of  again  failing  to  recognize  it  is  greatly  reduced. 
Yet  the  ph^^siological  dependence  is  the  least  important 
influence  in  the  strengthening  of  association,  since  con- 
tiguity, though  more  universal,  is  less  important  than  cor- 
relation in  its  establishment.  The  attention,  which  estab- 
lishes the  observed  relations  in  association,  is  the  most 
important  means  of  strengthening  them.  Strong  attention 
to  a  single  chain  of  events  is  often  sufticient  to  lix  it 
permanently  in  mind  ;  and  we  are  generally  able,  when 
troubled  with  forgetfulness  in  a  particular  connection,  to 
relate  the  desired  event  to  some  remembered  fact,  and  thus 
to  hold  it  iu  the  memorv  train. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IMAGINATION. » 
§  ].  Passive  Imagixatiox. 

The  crowning  phase  of  the  imaging  power  of  mind  is  the 
imagination.  It  may  be  understood  in  tw^o  senses.  First, 
imagination  is  often  used  to  denote  the  general  representa- 
tive function  of  mind,  the  power  of  representing  b}^  images, 
thus  inchiding  memory  and  association,  as  well  as  the  con- 
structive working  up  of  images.  Second,  the  word  is  often 
more  properly  restricted  to  this  last  process,  that  whereby 
the  material  of  representation  at  the  disposal  of  the  mind 
is  combined  in  forms  of  ideal  construction,  which  are  inde- 
pendent, in  a  measure,  of  the  arrangements  of  external 
objects.  While  the  latter  is  more  properly  the  function 
which  now  claims  explanation,  it  is  not  well  to  disregard 
the  more  general  phases  w^hich  the  broader  definition  has  in 
view. 

Material  of  the  Imagination.  The  material  of  the  imag- 
ination, as  of  the  representative  function  generally,  is  sup- 
plied entirely  by  the  earlier  function  of  presentation.  The 
imagination  never  creates.  It  serves  only  to  give  form  to 
ideas  revived.  The  data  of  sense  perception  and  self-con- 
sciousness supply  all  its  content.  And  further,  its  material 
is  alwa^^s  capable  of  being  represented  in  the  form  of  mem- 
ory pictures. 

Proceeding,  therefore,  to  consider  the  broad  character- 
istics of  the  imaging  power,  and  disregarding  the  more  par- 
ticular processes  which  memory  and  association  comprise, 
we  find  that  general  imagination  is  Passive  and  Active, 

^  Cf.  my  Handbook  of  PsycJiology,  vol.  i.  chap,  xii, 


176  IMAGINATION. 

Passive  Imagination.  By  passive  imagination  is  meant 
tlie  spontaneous  uncontrolled  play  of  images  in  conscious- 
ness, from  whatever  cause  they  spring,  and  in  whatever 
arrangement  they  take  form.  It  finds  its  simplest  type  in 
the  incoherent  forms  of  dream  consciousness.  Here  there 
is  no  mental  supervision  of  the  flow  of  ideas,  no  true  appre- 
ciation of  their  relative  value  for  the  mental  life,  no  exer- 
cise of  will  in  selecting  or  combining  them.  The  physical 
and  intellectual  causes  of  their  production  are  free  to  work 
their  own  effects,  and  the  result  is  the  storming  of  con- 
sciousness, in  its  helpless  state,  with  all  the  missiles  of 
sense. 

Presuppositions :  Memory  and  Association.  It  is  read- 
ily seen  that  the  free  play  of  images  proceeds  upon  the 
revival  and  association  of  images.  The  method  of  this 
revival  is  both  physical  and  mental,  and  consists  only  in  the 
wider  range  of  the  disjDOsitions  of  brain  and  mind  which 
have  been  seen  to  lie  at  the  basis  of  memory  and  association. 

1.  The  physical  basis  here  presents  its  most  complex  and 
intricate  activity,  as  is  seen  in  the  boundless  combinations 
presented.  Indeed,  this  infinite  complexity  and  irregularity 
have  led  many  to  deny  the  dependence  of  imagination  upon 
the  laws  which  ordinarily  govern  reproduction.  But  we 
have  only  to  consider  the  real  nature  of  the  inter-connected 
chains  of  cerebral  association  to  see  that  the  truth  is  what 
the  principle  of  association  would  lead  us  to  believe.  Let 
us  consider  the  prevailing  cast  of  a  subject's  consciousness 
to  be  determined  by  a  great  mass  of  systemic,  emo- 
tional, and  presentative  groups.  These  cover  the  entire 
liistory  of  the  past,  and  although  their  elements  may  be  in 
subconsciousness,  they  are  yet  each  capable,  upon  the  rein- 
statement of  the  conditions  of  its  first  production,  of  assert- 
ing itself,  in  whole  or  in  part,  above  the  level  of  the  general 
product.  The  result  will  not  be  the  reproduction  of  long 
connected  series  of  states.  From  the  nature  of  the  brain, 
the  nerve  elements  which  represent  unessential  or  accidental 


MEMORY  AXD  ASSOCIATIOX.  177 

mental  modifications  are  also  readily  excited.  As  mental 
states,  they  are  outside  the  chain  of  ideas,  and  seem  quite 
detached  and  irrelevant  ;  but  in  their  physical  basis  they 
are  reasonable  effects.  And  this  result  is  indefinitely  added 
to  by  the  interplay  of  different  cerebral  trains.  The 
entire  brain  vibrates  with  its  single  members,  and  sur- 
charged parts  are  thus  excited  by  connections  perhaps  so 
delicate  and  fine  that  there  are  no  elements  in  conscious- 
ness corresponding  to  them.  Thus  images  far  removed  in 
thought  from  one  another  and  never  consciously  connected 
are  thrown  toijether  in  imaQ:ination. 

This  state  of  complete  confusion  in  consciousness  rarely 
extends  over  its  whole  area,  however  ;  for  while  we  are  con- 
scious at  all  there  is  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  mental 
supervision.  Even  in  dreams  there  is  a  glamour  of  logical 
or  aesthetic  consistency  throw^n  over  the  most  inconsistent 
elements.  AVe  think  we  are  making  convincing  arguments 
or  reciting  delicious  stanzas,  when,  awaking,  we  find  it  the 
most  meaningless  jargon.  And  in  states  of  light  dreaming, 
when  the  picture  as  a  whole  is  coherent,  new  excitations  of 
the  senses  are  accommodated  to  it. 

As  lias  been  said,  dreams  are  the  most  evident  type  of 
the  free  play  of  this  physical  causation.  When  we  are 
asleep,  the  active,  distinguishing,  correlating,  and  arrang- 
ing function  of  mind  is  at  rest ;  some  of  the  senses  are 
freely  open  to  excitation  from  without,  and  the  mechanical 
element  of  our  personality  is  predominant.  Moreover,  the 
withdrawal  of  the  blood  supply  from  the  brain,  which  is 
the  usual  accompaniment  of  a  reduced  consciousness,  tends 
to  alter  the  relative  potential  of  its  parts.  It  facilitates 
the  discharge  of  isolated  regions,  or  exposes  elements 
whose  ordinary  activity  is  covered  by  larger  or  more  recent 
connections.  As  would  be  expected,  very  young  children 
dream  very  little.  They  have  not  formed  the  physical 
habits  which  give  to  the  reactive  consciousness  such 
complexity. 


178  IMAGINATION. 

In  our  waking  states,  also,  we  often  indulge  in  the  state 
of  uncontrolled  representation,  wliicb  passive  imagination 
presents.  When  we  relax  all  mental  exertion,  and  fall  into 
reverie  or  day-dreams,  this  spontaneous  flow  of  images  is 
realized.  Yet  the  play  of  representations  is  never  in  our 
waking  states  as  detached  and  incoherent  as  in  dreams. 
We  can  usually  detect,  even  in  our  states  of  completest 
intellectual  abandon,  the  successive  connections  in  trains  of 
ideas,  governed  by  the  principles  of  regular  association. 

2.  The  subjective  aspect  of  passive  imagination  is  of  more 
importance  and  of  greater  obscurity  than  its  physical  basis. 
And  yet  its  phenomena  are  in  the  main  of  the  same  nature. 
We  would  expect  from  the  intricacy  and  confusion  of  this 
physical  network  of  connections  that  the  mental  facts 
would  present  the  same  general  appearance  ;  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  while,  in  the  midst  of  this  intricacy,  the 
laws  of  physics  hold,  so  in  the  mental  phenomena,  the 
laws  of  association  must  hold,  through  all  the  appearance 
of  lawless  flow.  The  first  part  of  this  expectation,  that 
the  images  of  imagination  will  show  detached  and  inco- 
herent form,  is  certainly  realized  in  fact.  The  most  strik- 
ing characteristic  of  imagination  is  the  strange  and  wanton 
nature  of  its  combinations.  Detached  parts  of  former 
images  are  combined  in  unexpected  and  ridiculous  forms. 
Monsters  before  unknown  are.  put  together  from  earlier 
creatures  of  thought.  Situations  are  devised  which  involve 
persons  and  places  impossible  to  be  reached  or  associated 
in   real  life. 

And  all  that  we  know  of  the  case  leads  us  to  the  opinion 
that  tlie  second  of  our  expectations  also  holds  good,  and 
that  no  stretch  in  the  current  of  the  life  of  fancy  escapes 
the  principles  of  association. 

§  2.  Modes  of  Passive  Imagination. 

Imagination,  in  its  passive  form,  takes  on  two  general 
modes;   we  first  find  a  breaking  up  of  the  complexes  of 


MODES  OF  PASSIVE  LMAGIXATIOX.  179 

experience  into  tlieir  elements,  small  or  great,  and  second, 
we  find  that  these  elements  take  on  new  shapes.  These 
two  modes  may  be  called,  respectively,  Dissociation  and 
Composition. 

I.  Dissociation.  From  what  has  been  said,  the  part 
played  by  dissociation  is  evident.  If  there  were  no  such 
breaking  up  of  representations  imagination  would  be 
simply  memory.  The  same  forms  of  mental  process 
would  be  indefinitely  repeated.  Our  mental  life  would 
be  wearisome  in  its  sameness,  except  as  we  widened  the 
range  of  our  actual  sense  experience.  As  a  process,  disso- 
ciation may  be  more  or  less  prominent,  and  its  thorough- 
ness, or  the  contrary,  indicates  the  degree  of  imaginative 
power  possessed  by  individuals,  since  construction  or 
recombination  must  be  limited  to  the  elements  at  hand. 
In  the  process  ab-eady  described  the  ground  or  reason  of 
this  dissociation  may  be  seen. 

1.  It  is  often  due  to  the  breaking  up  of  physical  connec- 
tions in  the  brain.  The  fact  of  forgetf ulness  or  fading  of 
memory  is  largely  to  be  explained  by  the  separation  and 
dissolution  of  brain  circuits.  The  command  of  a  lan- 
guage, for  example,  may  be  lost  from  injury  to  the  brain 
leading  to  the  loss  of  verbal  memories  or  to  the  impaii- 
ment  of  the  movements  of  pronunciation.  But  single 
words  or  letters,  parts  of  former  groups,  may  remain 
clearly  before  us.  By  the  dropping  away  of  certain  ele- 
ments of  a  complex  whole  the  others  become  more  vivid 
and  the  result  is  a  more  or  less  complete  analysis. 

2.  The  same  is  true  of  the  mental  side  of  our  memory. 
By  the  principle  already  mentioned  mental  groups  are 
acted  upon  variously  by  the  attention,  and  attain  different 
degrees  of  permanence  in  memory;  so  parts  or  elements  of 
these  groups  may  also  be  affected.  Of  a  long  argument 
I  may  remember,  without  effort,  only  a  single  step.  Of  a 
face  only  the  nose,  perhaps,  or  the  chin,  is  clear  in  mem- 
ory.    The  whole  of  a  word  or  sentence  is  often  brought  up 


ISO  IMAGINATION. 

in  memory  from  the  persistence  of  a  single  letter  or  com- 
bination which  before  attracted  the  attention.  Conse- 
quently, in  the  progressive  fading  which  all  representation 
undergoes,  parts  of  groups,  or  elements  of  single  images, 
fall  away,  while  other  parts  or  elements  stand  out  alone. 
This,  as  before,  constitutes  a  more  or  less  complete  analysis 
of  former  complexes.  In  associations  by  resemblance,  as  we 
have  seen,  points  common  to  the  two  resembling  presenta- 
tions get  similar  emphasis. 

3.  Further  than  this,  we  will  find  in  active  imagination  a 
positive  conscious  separation  of  the  parts  of  images.  We 
are  conscious  of  a  tendency  toward  the  reduction  of  com- 
plex products  to  their  elements.  We  note  irregularities 
in  outline,  protuberances,  inconsistencies,  and  thus  isolate 
portions  of  our  representations.  This  is  seen  particularly 
where  the  association  is  not  a  necessary  one,  and  the  parts 
dissociated  have  a  completeness  and  unity  of  their  own  : 
as  the  wings,  legs,  head  of  a  bird,  considered  each  for 
itself,  or  the  subject,  predicate,  and  copula  of  a  jjropo- 
sition. 

II.  Composition :  Fancy.  These  detached  data  do  not 
remain  without  form  in  consciousness,  but  are  built  up  into 
new  combinations.  The  forms  of  these  combinations  are, 
as  has  been  said,  apparently  capricious  and  without  law 
where  there  is  no  selection  exercised  in  their  arrano^e- 
ment. 

The  combining  function  of  passive  imagination,  viewed 
in  its  product,  is  called  ,/h?icy.  Fancy  is  the  familiar  deck- 
ing out  of  commonplace  experience  with  images  brought 
from  distant  and  unexpected  regions.  Incongruous  ele- 
ments are  placed  in  juxtaposition,  grotesque  forms  grow  up 
from  most  familiar  elements,  the  most  extravagant  antith- 
eses, and  even  contradictions,  are  allowed  indulgence  in 
this  delightful  license  of  thought.  It  brings  freshness  into 
the  midst  of  tedious  processes,  and,  in  its  subtle  refinements, 
appeals  directly  to  the  emotional  and  aesthetic  nature.     The 


BELATIOX  OF  FAKCT  TO  REALITY.  ISl 

passive  automatic  play  of  fancy  is  to  be  enipliasizecl  in 
contrast  with  the  more  purposive  construction  of  active 
imagination,  which  remains  to  be  considered. 

The  student  should  notice  also  the  erdai'ijlnrj  and  dimin- 
ishimj  functions  of  fancy.  It  brings  about  unexpected  and 
grotesque  alterations  in  the  size  of  things.  Pygmies  and 
giants  are  ordinary  acquaintances  of  our  fancy.  Tilings 
which  we  fear  or  dread  are  apt  to  be  very  large,  and  things 
which  we  ridicule  or  despise  very  small.  It  is  probable 
that  this,  as  many  other  aspects  of  the  imagination,  is  due 
laro^elv  to  the  emotional  coloring  of  the  time.  The  ordi- 
nary  cori-ectives  of  reality  and  thought  being  wanting,  the 
presentalive  life  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  emotional.  The 
idea  which  calls  the  emotion  forth  accommodates  itself 
to  the  emotion,  by  way  of  justification  for  it. 

Relation  of  Fancy  to  Reality.  Passive  imagination  is 
characterized  throughout  by  the  absence  of  reference  to 
the  real  world.  In  it  the  mind  frees  itself,  as  it  were, 
from  its  accustomed  bondage  to  external  things,  and  makes 
its  universe  entirely  within.  The  truthful  images  of 
memory  are  torn  asunder  and  built  up  into  forms  never 
realized  in  nature  or  in  sober  thouglit.  Animals  are  given 
voices,  inanimate  objects  legs,  and  the  world  is  peopled 
with  beings  as  strange  as  rare.  Yet  this  is  true  only  in  the 
nature  of  imagination,  not  in  its  actual  results;  for  in  its 
active  forms,  as  we  sliall  see,  it  maintains  a  constant  though 
covert  reference  to  reality  ;  and  even  in  the  most  automatic 
play  which  is  ever  realized  there  is  slight  supervision 
and  correction  from  the  underlying  sense  of  consistency, 
beauty,  and  truth.  Tlie  vague  feeling  of  satisfaction  or 
dissatisfaction  which  we  experience  in  connection  with 
our  fancies  is  due  to  the  habit  of  comparing  our  mental, 
states  with  reality,  and  even  in  dreams,  where  all  such 
reference  to  the  external  world  is  impossible,  we  make 
objects  of  our  visions  as  truly  as  in  the  exj^erience  of  our 
wakinor  life. 


182  IMAGmATTOK. 

§  3.  Active  or  Construotia^e  Imagination. 

Definition.  In  addition  to  the  processes  described  in  tlie 
foregoing,  the  active  imagination  involves  the  exercise  of 
will  in  some  of  its  forms,  whether  it  be  the  positive  attempt 
to  control  the  images  of  fancy,  or  tlie  merest  supervision 
and  direction  of  their  pla^^  This  distinction  is  alreadv^ 
made  familiar  in  the  cases  of  attention  and  memory. 
Attention  was  found  to  be  passive  or  reflex,  and  active  or 
voluntary,  and  memory  takes  two  forms,  reminiscence  and 
recollection,  according  as  it  is  passive  or  active. 

The  distinction,  however,  in  this  case  is  not  an  absolute 
one.  The  beginnings  of  mental  supervision,  or  at  least  the 
feeling  of  such  supervision,  is  found  in  the  most  mechanical 
play  of  images.  Yet  we  shall  find  it  valuable  for  purposes 
of  analysis,  as  the  foregoing  sections  on  passive  imagination 
seem  to  assure  us. 

This  phase  of  imaging  is  further  called  constructive, 
from  the  nature  of  its  product.  In  it  is  emphasized  again 
the  intentional  nature  of  the  compound  state  which  is  built 
up.  Passive  combination  or  fancy  is  a  kind  of  construc- 
tion ;  but  here  we  deal  with  the  purposive  putting  together 
of  elements  for  the  attainment  of  an  end  of  use  or  beauty. 
This  is  the  process  of  artistic  and  scientific  construction. 

§  4.  Analysis  of  Constructive  Imagination. 

In  analyzing  the  process  of  construction  by  the  imagina- 
tion we  proceed  upon  the  account  already  given  of  the 
passive  play  of  images.  That  is,  the  dissociation  of  the 
elements  of  former  ideal  complexes  is  assumed,  and  their 
readiness  to  be  recombined  under  the  guidance  of  an  idea 
or  "  plan."  We  may  distinguish  four  factors  or  moments 
in  the  process  of  construction  :  Natural  Imjyulse  or  Appe- 
tence,  Intention,  Selective  Attention,  and  Feeling  of  Fitness. 
These  may  be  considered  in  this  order: 

I.  Natural  Impulse  or  Appetence.     It  is  readily  seen 


AITALTSTS  OF  COSSTnnCTIVE  IMAGIXATIOX.     183 

that  if  tlie  automatic  flo\v  of  images  in  imagination  is  to 
be  intentionally  modified,  there  must  be  some  imi)ulsion, 
motiv^e,  or  desire  whicli  leads  to  it.  An  accidental  modifi- 
cation would  be  self-defeating,  and  would  secure  no  sys- 
tematic construction  whatever.  There  must  be  some  end 
in  view,  however  vague,  and  a  natural  tendency  toward  it, 
an  attraction  or  tlie  contrary.'  In  a  later  chapter  certain 
tendencies  of  ours  toward  or  from  certain  ends  or  actions 
will  become  apparent.  Leaving  till  then  all  further  dis- 
cussion of  their  nature,  we  simply  note  here  that  all  exer- 
cise of  will  springs  from  these  "appetences,"  and  that  the 
intelligent  exercise  of  will  always  has  in  view,  as  its  end, 
objects  Avhich  arouse  them.  Among  these  "  springs  of 
action"  may  be  mentioned  love  of  pleasure  and  aversion  to 
pain,  the  natural  affections,  love  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
right  :  principles  which  are  common  to  all  men  in  some 
degree,  but  wliicli  vary  in  force  within  very  wide  limits  in 
individuals.  Any  or  all  of  such  principles,  which  are 
strong  enough  in  the  individual  to  lea<l  to  action,  or  to 
give  cast  to  the  emotional  life,  may  serve  as  basis  for 
imaginative  construction.  If  we  are  led  to  hope  for  the 
accomplishment  of  a  desire,  we  picture  ceaselessly  the 
actual  attainment  of  it,  ourselves  enjoying  its  benefits  and 
our  enemies  discomfited.  Nothing  is  allowed  in  the  scene 
which  does  not  increase  the  pleasure,  adverse  elements, 
even  when  known  to  be  real,  being  discarded.  Simply  on 
the  ground  of  strong  desire — of  praise,  money,  truth — the 
images  of  imagination  are  constructed,  built  u])  into  a 
consistent  w^hole.  Principal,  however,  among  the  appe- 
tences which  are  predominating  in  the  imagination  are  the 
Love  of  the  heautifid,  and  the  Love  of  truth,  or  the  desire 
for  knowledge.  These  lie  at  the  basis  of  the  general 
kinds  of  constructive  imagination,  later  designated  Esthetic 
and  Sdentific. 

'  See  below,  chap.  xxv.  p  2,  and  consult  also  my  Handhook  of  Psych- 
ology, vol.  ii.  chap.  xiv.  §  2,  and  chap.  viii.  §  6. 


184  iMAGtNATIOK. 

II.  Intention.  Pornianent  preference  in  character  leads 
to  desire,  as  permanent  and  controlling,  to  accomplish 
something  in  the  line  of  its  activity.  And  the  entire  life, 
if  circumstances  do  not  prevent  its  satisfaction,  is  molded 
with  this  end  in  view.  Professions  are  cliosen,  associations 
formed,  pleasures  indulged  in,  all  of  which  both  satisly 
this  permanent  desire  and  strengthen  it.  This  may  be 
called  Intention,  Intention,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  part 
devoted  to  the  volitional  life,^  is  a  form  of  active  readi- 
ness or  consent,  permanent  in  its  kind,  and  needing  only 
occasion  or  oj^portunity  to  flow  forth  into  action.  The 
scientific  man  has  a  constant  impulse  or  "  intention " 
toward  the  objects  of  his  science.  It  has  become  to  hiui 
tlie  chosen  channel  for  the  expenditure  of  his  intellectual 
energy.  The  artist  likewise  finds  his  whole  life  devoted 
to  the  pursuit  of  the  forms  which  gratify  his  sestlietic 
nature.  His  consciousness  is  filled  with  images  of  the 
beautiful,  and  liis  intention  is  so  spontaneous  that  it  leads 
right  on  to  volition. 

III.  Selective  Attention.  We  now  reach  the  influence 
wliicli  controls  the  constructions  of  imagination,  the  at- 
tention. Presupposing  the  native  preferences  and  tenden- 
cies which  have  been  spoken  of,  the  will,  in  attention, 
builds  up  images,  which  meet  its  purpose,  into  forms  of 
novelty  and  beauty.  The  attention  is  given  to  reproduc- 
tions with  this  construction  in  view.  The  scientist  or 
artist  views  his  ideas  as  so  much  material,  to  be  directly 
used  for  the  purpose  of  his  science  or  art,  and  each  image 
in  turn  is  scrutinized,  alone  and  with  its  escort,  to  dis- 
cover the  possibilities  of  combination  which  lie  inherent 
in  it.  Images  which  do  not  present  promise  of  usefulness 
in  the  construction  are  withdrawn  from  attention  and  fade 
away  ;  others  which  fit  into  the  growing  temple  of  imag- 
ination are  changed,  divided,  refined,  combined,  and  cast 
into  forms  more  complete  or  beautiful. 

The  psychological  value  of  this  phase  of  the  imagina- 
'  BcloAv,  chap,  xxvii   i^  1. 


SELECTIVE  ATTEXTTOJ^.  185 

tioii  consists  in  the  prolonged  and  concentratcHl  mental 
reaction  which  it  involves  :  what  Newton  called  "  patient 
thought."  Surface  analogies  are  seen  by  the  common 
mind,  and  need  no  effort  of  construction  ;  but  tlie  hidden 
properties,  the  relations  which  spread  wide  out  through 
nature  and  art — these  are  discovered  only  when  the  veils 
that  conceal  them  are  pierced  by  the  power  of  constructive 
thought.  Every  scientific  hypothesis  is  such  a  piece  of 
construction.  Only  the  properties  of  the  matter  in  hand 
are  taken  which,  by  the  selective  attention,  can  be  arranged 
in  a  logical  framework,  to  be  tested  by  further  appeal  to 
fact.  Causes  are  imagined  to  be  working  alone,  although 
never  so  found,  and  their  effects  constructed.  "  So  Newton 
saw  the  planet  falling  into  the  sun,  a  thing  that  did  not 
take  place,  but  which  would  take  place  if  the  tangential 
force  were  suppressed."  ^ 

Tlie  attention,  therefore,  in  imagination,  has  a  twofold 
part.  First,  it  is  Exclusive,  that  is,  it  excludes  representa- 
tions which  liave  no  meaning  for  the  task  in  hand.  This 
is  not  a  positive  banishment  from  consciousness,  since  that 
is  impossible.  The  effort  to  banish  an  idea  only  makes  it 
more  vivid,  while  the  attention  is  held  fixed  upon  it.  But 
it  consists  in  the  neglect  of  this  particular  idea,  as  unsuited 
to  the  purpose  of  present  pursuit.  Thus  withdrawn  from 
attention  an  image  sinks  into  subconsciousness  and  is  prac- 
tically banished.  Second,  it  is  Selective  :  an  image  is  held 
clear  before  consciousness  and  thus  found  available  in  the- 
growing  result. 

The  result,  therefore,  is  a  product  of  apperception : 
since  the  construction  of  imagination  is  strictly  analo- 
gous to  the  construction  of  the  external  world  in  sense 
perception.  In  the  latter  case,  objects  and  relations  are 
forced  into  consciousness  to  be  arranged,  co-ordinated, 
reconstructed  by  the  apperceiving  function.  Here  the 
data  are  supplied  from  the  dissolution  of  former  appercep- 
tive syntheses,  by  a  selective  principle,  only  to  be  recom- 
^  Rabier,  Psychohgie,  p.  233  :  compare  ou  this  section. 


186  IMAGTJSrATTOlr. 

billed  by  a  second  synthesis.  In  the  first  construction 
reality  is  the  corrective  and  guide  ;  it  is  only  after  repeated 
experiences  that  our  synthetic  wholes  in  perception  are 
made  correct.  Here,  in  imagination,  this  corrective  is 
wanting  ;  but  its  place  is  supplied  by  the  critical  selection 
of  the  attention. 

IV.  Feeling  of  Fitness.  It  must  have  become  evident 
that  this  selection  of  images  by  the  attention  proceeds 
upon  some  principle.  There  must  be  some  criterion  of 
choice,  something  either  in  the  images  themselves  or  in  the 
end  which  they  are  to  subserve,  which  renders  some  avail- 
able and  others  useless.  The  percej^tion  of  this  fitness  re- 
quires in  general  two  things  : 

1.  An  end  or  2:furpose  held  in  conscious  thought,  which  is 
to  be  realized  by  construction.  It  is  readily  seen  that  this 
must  be  involved  in  the  active  as  distinguished  from  the 
passive  imagination,  since  the  volitional  addition  in  this 
case  proceeds  by  motives.  That  is,  the  will  is  exerted  only 
for  the  accomplishment  of  something  which  is  presented  as 
an  idea,  i.  e.,  is  an  ideals  This  end  or  ideal  aim,  as  shall 
be  seen  in  considering  the  aesthetic  imagination,  may  be  the 
vaguest  and  most  general  notion,  having  only  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  general  class  to  which  it  belongs.  An 
artist  desires  to  make  something  beautiful,  or  something 
expressive  ;  an  inventor,  something  useful.  They  begin, 
with  this  vague  thought,  to  select  their  images.  And  as 
the  construction  proceeds,  it  is  as  new  to  them  as  to  others, 
and  satisfies  them,  if  it  meet  the  general  requirement  of 
their  first  thought.  Later  in  the  growing  process  the  end 
becomes  more  definite,  as  the  possibilities  of  the  creation 
become  evident.  The  artist  then  projects  lines  of  possible 
combination,  to  be  filled  in  by  actual  representations.  To 
use  the  figure  of  George,  this  liypothetical  advance  of  the 
scientific  imagination  is  like  a  net,  thrown  over  the  objects 

^  See  the  discussion  of  "ideals"  below,  chap.  xxi.  §  3,  also  my 
Handbook  of  PaycJiology,  vol.  11.  chap.  ix.  §§  2,  3. 


KINDS  OF  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMACTXATWN.        187 

of  <'«)iisi(lorati<)n  at  tlie  moment,  its  lines  marking  out  the 
path  of  future  discovery. 

2.  Feeling  of  Adcfptation  to  this  end.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary at  this  point  to  show  the  presence  of  such  a  feeling, 
not  to  discuss  its  nature  or  origin.  It  seems  to  consist  in  a 
sense  of  the  adaptation  of  means  to  end.  Only  by  it  is  the 
exclusive  and  selective  attention  guided  in  its  choice  of 
elements.  As  a  feeling,  it  extends  throughout  our  entire 
mental  and  active  life.  We  pass  involuntary^  judgment  on 
the  fitness  of  an  instrument  for  its  use,  of  the  material  for 
a  garment,  of  an  officer  for  his  office. 

This  feeling,  in  its  variations  in  individuals,  is  in  large 
part  the  basis  of  artistic  talent.  The  general  proportions 
of  things,  the  relativ^e  value  of  details,  the  harmony  of 
discordant  meanings,  the  reduction  of  varied  elements  to  a 
fundamental  motive — these  and  many  other  problems  of 
the  artist  call  tliis  feeling  prominently  into  phi}'.  He  says  : 
"  I  know  not  why,  but  I  feel  that  it  must  be  so."  Some 
men  are  almost  destitute  of  such  a  sense.  They  sliow  its 
lack  in  the  absence  of  personal  and  room  adornment,  in 
incongruous  and  peculiar  actions — actions  inappropriate  to 
the  circumstances.  Tliis  lack  may  be  summed  up  concisely 
as  either  the  want  of  constructive  imagination,  or  the  want 
of  the  sense  of  fitness  in  selecting:  its  material.* 


■& 


§  5.  Kinds  of  Constructive  Imagination. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  gain  a  view  of  the  entire  process 
of  imagination  looked  at,  not  as  the  union  of  these  separate 
activities  or  factors,  but  as  what  it  appears  at  first  sight  to 
be,  a  single  function  of  mind.  Considering  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  imagination  and  the  relation  which  its  con- 
structions bear  to  the  world,  two  general  fonns  may  be 
distinguished  :  the  Scientific  and  the  Esthetic  imagination. 

I.  Scientific  Imagination.     The  scientific  or  acquisitive 

'  See  further  discussion  of  this  sense  of  fitness,  below,  chap.  xxi.  g  3. 


188  IMAOIKATION. 

iniagiii.itioii  is  the  imagination  occupied  with  tlie  discovery 
of  trutli.  At  first  siglit  it  appears  true  that  tlie  construc- 
tions of  this  faculty  have  no  vahie  for  knowledge,  and  that 
intellect  only  suffers  from  its  exercise.  But  we  find  that 
the  imagination  is  the  prophetic  forerunner  of  almost  all 
great  scientific  discoveries.  In  science  the  mental  factors 
seen  to  underlie  all  imaginative  construction  are  called  into 
play  in  a  highly  exaggerated  way.  The  associative  ma- 
terial presented  covers,  generally,  the  whole  area  of  the 
data  of  the  scientific  branch  in  hand  :  familiarit}^  with  tlie 
principles  and  laws  already  discovered  is  assumed,  and,  in 
general,  a  condition  of  mental  saturation  with  the  subject. 
For  this  reason  we  look  to  scientific  specialists  for  new 
truths  and  hypotheses,  and  have  no  ear  for  the  vagaries  of 
the  dilettante  and  amateur.  Native  taste,  preference,  and 
personal  interest  are  also  here  highly  significant.  There  is  as 
distinctly  a  scientific  genius  as  there  is  an  artistic  genius. 
Great  discoverers  in  science  have  a  facilit}^  in  discovering 
deep-seated  analogies  and  relations,  an  appetence  for 
positive  truth,  a  tendency  to  accept  only  the  confirmed 
deliverances  of  nature  herself.  They  generally  are  men  of 
great  emotional  soberness  and  intellectual  enthusiasm,  if 
the  antithesis  be  allowed.  Further  than  this,  their  imagi- 
native process  is  largely  under  control.  This  is  no  doubt 
the  great  essential,  the  preponderating  force  of  the  exclu- 
sive and  selective  attention.  Not  only  do  great  scientists 
see  deeply,  but  they  are  able,  from  an  exquisite  sense  of 
relative  values  in  nature,  and  of  relative  fitness  in  fact,  to 
dissect,  arrange,  and  classify,  until  from  a  few  great  gen- 
eral resemblances  the  construction  of  a  law  is  possible. 
And  it  is  only  by  tliis  act  of  relating  attention,  or  apper- 
ception, that  the  actual  law  is  finally  constructed.  A  minor 
scientist  may  collect  data  and  draw  from  them  generic  re- 
semblances, but,  witli  all  his  study  and  effort,  he  does  not 
construct.  The  trained,  refined,  and  nature-given  con- 
structive force  of  attention  alone  does  this. 


SGIEXTIFIC  HYPOTHESES.  189 

Relation  of  Scientific  Imagination  to  Reality: 
Scientific  Hypotheses,  Tliis  form  of  imagination  has 
also  been  called  acquisitive,  and  therein  it  is  plain  that  it 
h'as  direct  reference  to  our  knowledge  of  the  world  and 
things.  It  differs  in  this  both  from  the  passive  exercise 
of  the  imaging  power,  which  has  no  guide  but  interest 
and  preference,  and  from  the  {esthetic,  whose  end  is  pleas- 
ure in  an  ideal  which  is  not  realized  in  nature.  The  end 
of  the  scientific  imagination  is  truth,  and  its  impelling 
motive,  love  of  truth.  For  this  reason  the  corrective  real- 
ity which  is  wanting  in  the  other  cases  returns  here  in  its 
full  import.  The  data  of  this  form  of  imagination  are  true 
images,  tlie  elements  of  knowledge.  Its  constructions  are 
logical  processes,  through  which  further  trutlis  may  be  an- 
ticipated by  inference;  and  its  anticipations  are  worthless, 
unless  they  stand  an  exhaustive  comparison  with  nature's 
plienomena,  and  by  it  receive  confirmation.  The  purpose 
of  scientific  imagination,  then,  is  utility,  not  pleasure. 

The  form  of  all  such  anticipations  of  nature  is  hypo- 
thetical. There  remains  in  consciousness,  with  it  all,  the 
feeling  that  the  product  is  subjective,  a  creation  of  mind, 
and  an  eager  desire  to  test  its  actual  truth.  The  construc- 
tions, therefore,  of  the  scientific  imagination  are  called 
hypotheses.  They  carry  various  degrees  of  probability, 
both  subjective  and  objective.  By  subjective  probability 
is  meant  the  amount  of  belief  whicli  we  ourselves  attach  to 
our  constructions.  Often  the  data  are  so  well  understood 
and  the  process  of  construction  so  conscious  that  our  be- 
lief amounts  to  psychological  certainty. 

II.  Esthetic  Imagination.  The  aesthetic  imagination 
differs  from  tlie  scientific,  especially  in  the  end  toward 
which  the  constructive  process  tends.  Assuming  the  same 
factors  or  stages  in  its  development,  the  difference  is  seen 
in  the  fact  that  the  end  is  no  longer  knowledge,  but  beauty. 
The  selective  attention,  therefore,  in  this  case,  singles  out 
elements  which  satisfy  the  sense  of  the  beautiful,  whether 


190  IMAGINATION. 

or  not  its  construction  is  realizable  in  tlie  combinations  of 
fact.  What  it  is  that  constitutes  the  beautiful  is  to  be 
spoken  of  later/  Among  the  general  relations  which  are 
called  beautiful  are  symmetry,  harmony,  unity  in  variety  ; 
representative  materials  which  promise  these  aesthetic  com- 
binations are  taken  up  and  thrown  into  forms  of  construc- 
tion. 

The  aesthetic  imagination  is  accompanied  by  a  lively 
play  of  pleasurable  excitement,  which  continues  throughout 
the  continuance  of  the  constructive  work.  It  receives 
great  re-enforcement  or  decrease,  according  as  the  concep- 
tion is  skillfully  or  poorly  worked  out.  The  emotional  life 
is  more  intimately  concerned  than  in  scientific  construc- 
tion, and,  instead  of  disturbing,  it  greatly  assists  the  oper- 
ation. The  forms  of  aesthetic  construction  are  also  more 
instantaneous  and  inexplicable,  for  the  reason  that  they 
arise  from  an  emotional  stimulus,  and  have  no  logical  ami, 
often,  no  conscious  development.  Great  artists  are  usually 
men  of  strong  emotional  temperament,  and  frequently 
show  a  corresponding  lack  of  high  practical  and  theoretical 
judgment.  Their  conceptions  take  shape  spontaneously^ 
with  little  selection  of  elements,  or  conscious  blending  ; 
and  when  once  satisfactorily  executed,  they  are  unwill- 
ing to  admit  modification  .except  in  unimportant  details. 
Further,  the  corrective  standard  of  reference  is  now  not 
reality,  but  an  ideal  of  universal  acceptance — a  form  not 
found  in  nature,  but  of  which  nature  in  her  perfect  work- 
ing would  be  capable.  The  question  as  to  the  true  prov- 
ince of  art,  imitation  or  construction,  as  the  two  great  the- 
ories, realism  and  idealism  respectively,  announce  it,  cannot 
be  long  unsolved  from  a  standpoint  of  the  psycholog}'  of 
ideals.  If  art  is  the  production  of  the  imagination  at  all  its 
ideals  are  imaginative  constructions,  not  natural  facts.  The 
act  of  putting  a  conception  in  oil  or  marble  is  not  alone  the 
artist's  part — a  machine  miglit  do  it  better.     The  art  value 

'  ^Esthetic  feelings,  below,  chap.  xxi.  §  7  ;  see  also  my  Handbook  of 
rsycholofjy,  chap.  ix.  §  8, 


THE  IXFIXITE.  191 

extends  to  the  conception.  The  execution  is  only  the  more 
or  less  adequate  means  of  expression.  If  imitation,  there- 
fore, be  the  whole  of  art,  execution  would  be  better  left  to 
the  camera  and  the  death-mask.  Tliere  is  no  reason  that 
aesthetic  ideals  should  not  surpass  nature  as  much  as  the 
forms  of  practical  invention  surpass  her  rude  contrivances 
for  usins:  her  own  forces.  Nature  never  constructs  a 
phonograph,  just  as  she  never  puts  human  thought  and 
aspiration  into  simple  color  and  form. 

Laws  of  Imagination.  From  what  has  been  said  it  is 
evident  that  passive  imagination  proceeds  by  the  secondary 
laws  of  association.  Contiguity,  and  Resemblance,  while 
active  imagination  proceeds  by  the  primary  law.  Correla- 
tion. In  correlative  association  there  is  a  deeper  principle 
underlying  contiguity  and  resemblance,  an  essential  apper- 
ceptive relation  ;  so  in  constructive  imagination  there  is  a 
deeper  principle,  a  relation  of  truth  or  beauty,  which  under- 
lies the  simple  contiguities  and  resemblances  involved  in 
the  compositions  of  fancy. 

§  6.  Ideal  Product  of  Imagination  :  the  Infinite. 

It  is  from  the  imaging  function  that  we  attain  the  idea  of 
the  Infinite,  since  it  is  only  by  tlie  enlarging  of  the  limited 
data  of  perception  that  unlimited  extent  in  time  and  space 
can  be  constructed.  We  may  look  at  the  infinite  under  two 
aspects  :  first,  defined  under  its  cognitive  or  representative 
aspect,  it  is  that  to  which  nothing  can  be  added,  the  perfect, 
after  its  kind.  It  is  called  representative,  since  we  find  the 
preparation  of  this  idea  in  our  psychological  analj^sis  of  im- 
agination. In  the  scientific  imagination  the  limit  of  discov- 
ery, or  the  infinite,  is  the  sum  of  truth,  and,  in  the  ideal  of 
aesthetic  construction,  we  have  the  perfect.  The  other  we  may 
call  the  emotional  aspect  of  the  infinite,  since  it  consists  in  the 
feelings  of  inadequacy  and  awe  which  accompany  all  our 
attempts  to  construct  or  picture  the  infinite.  All  images 
are  felt  to  be  entirely  out  of  place,  and  we  think  of  the 
infinite  as  stretching  out  beyond  our  utmost  conception. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ILLUSIONS.^ 
§  1.  Nature  of  Illusion. 

Helation  of  Illusion  to  Mental  Pathology.  The  imag- 
inative proct^ss  described  above  answers  to  the  normal 
working  of  the  reproductive  function  in  its  broadest  aspect. 
Yet  this  faculty  is  subject  to  various  forms  of  derangement, 
which  greatly  widen  its  sphere  of  influence  in  the  mental 
life,  and  at  the  same  time  afford  us  unexpected  means  of 
gaining  insight  into  its  real  nature.  The  study  of  illusions 
belongs  properly  to  the  Pathology  of  mind. 

In  this  connection,  however,  we  have  only  to  deal  with 
those  irregular  states  of  mind  to  which  the  regular  proc- 
esses sometimes  give  rise  :  that  is,  with  individual  unex- 
pected states,  rather  than  with  the  general  and  permanent 
irregularities  which  constitute  mental  disease.  Our  view 
includes  the  beginning  of  mental  tendencies  awaj^  from 
the  line  of  average  results  ;  tendencies  which,  like  all  other 
mental  products,  become  fixed,  through  habit,  in  forms  of 
chronic  delusion.  It  is  in  the  reproductive  faculty  that 
mental  aberration  generally  takes  its  rise.  We  can  readily 
see  how  a  failure  in  attentive  selection  of  images  gives 
constructions  which  are  untrue,  how  mistaken  vistas  of 
memory  may  lead  to  fallacious  processes,  of  thought  and 
mistaken  forms  of  action.  The  imagination  stands  midw^ay 
between  perception  and  thought,  and  errors  in  its  results 
cause  far-reaching  illusion. 

General  Character  of  Illusion.  By  illusion,  tlierefore, 
in  its  broadest  sense,  we  understand  mental  deception,  or 

'  Cf.  ray  Handbook  of  Psycliology,  vol,  i.  chap.  xiii. 


GENEliAL   CHARACTER  OF  ILLUSION.  193 

mistaken  trust  in  the  validity  of  a  subjective  state,  be  this 
state  what  it  niay.  An  unconscious  logical  fallacy  is  an 
ilhision,  an  apparition  of  the  senses  is  an  illusion,  a  mistake 
in  color,  due  to  expectancy,  is  an  illusion,  a  religious  super- 
stition is  an  illusion.  Viewed  thus  in  its  breadth  as  co- 
incident with  all  the  domain  of  our  conscious  life,two  general 
points  may  be  found  common  to  all  classes  of  illusions: 
first,  the  element  of  Belief  \\h\ch.  attaches  to  all  illusional 
states,  and,  second,  the  Represent  alive  Nature  of  all  such 
states. 

I.  Relation  of  Illusion  to  Belief  It  has  been  said  that 
trust  in  a  mental  state,  or  belief  in  its  reality,  is  a  common 
characteristic  of  illusional  states.  We  cannot  enter  here 
into  a  discussion  of  the  nature  of  belief,  as  a  psychological 
state,  since  it  is  not  necessary  to  the  case  in  hand.  It  is 
sufficient  to  note  that  the  mind  preserves  the  same  attitude 
toward  those  reproductions  which  constitute  illusions  in 
our  mental  life  as  toward  those  which  have  a  corresponding 
reality.  The  reason  that  the  mind  is  thus  disposed  to 
illusion  is  again  reverted  to  later.  We  attribute  to  the 
products  of  representation  the  correspondences  which  hold 
between  the  presentations  of  former  experience  and  inde- 
pendent objects  or  events,  external  to  us.  And  it  is  this 
belief  which  gives  tlie  illusion  its  force.  The  criteria  or 
grounds  of  this  belief,  therefore,  are  those  which  justify 
belief  in  the  external  world,  as  known  in  sense-perception.* 
Our  business  now  is  simply  to  ask  why  in  certain  cases  this 
belief  is  misplaced. 

II.  Representati\)e  Nature  of  Illusional  States.  The 
second  characteristic  of  all  illusions  is  their  representative 
quality.  It  is  only  in  a  picture,  or  copy,  or  representation 
that  the  reality  of  a  thing  can  be  simulated  ;  and  it  is  only 
as  the  reality  is  itself  a  mental  picture,  a  presentation,  that 
a  copy  or  representation  can  simulate  it.  For  this  reason 
we  reach  a  furtlier  exclusion  of  states  from  the  field  of 
illusion,  i.  e.,  tJiose  sciisaiions,  feelings,  emotions,  volitions 

'  See  section  on  "'  Belief,"  below,  chap.  xix.  g§  4,  5. 


194  ILLUSIONS. 

in  which  the  affective  element  is  predominant  or  unmixed. 
Consequently,  as  we  should  expect,  illusions  of  the  eye 
and  ear  are  most  common,  and  those  of  touch  not  unusual, 
these  senses  being  most  presentative  ;  while  deceptions  in 
taste  and  smell  are  rare,  except  when  they  arise  purely 
from  mental  causes,  or  from  consistency^  with  illusions 
already  established  for  sight  or  hearing/ 

Illusion  due  to  Interpretation.  Considering  these  two 
characteristics  of  illusions  we  are  led  to  look  upon  all  such 
states  as  the  result  of  mistaken  interpretation.  In  per- 
ception presentations  are  interpreted  in  terms  of  realit}^, 
and  the  interpretation  is  true  ;  in  illusion  representations  are, 
for  the  same  reasons,  whatever  they  are,  also  interpreted 
in  terms  of  reality,  and  the  interpretation  is  not  true.  We 
say  for  the  same  reasons,  meaning  that  the  evidence  which 
leads  to  belief  in  the  former  case,  the  marks  of  reality 
which  we  recognize,  are  also  present  in  the  second,  and 
induce  belief  here  also.  We  are  now  led  to  ask  :  What  are 
the  grounds  of  this  interpretation  ? 

§  2.  Grounds  of  Illusion. 

I.  Similarity  of  Presentations  and  Kepresentations. 
The  most  misleading  feature,  without  doubt,  of  represen- 
tative mental  products  is  their  very  close  resemblance  to 
the  original  presentations.  This  has  already  been  re- 
marked in  discussing  the  nature  of  mental  images.'^  This 
being  the  case,  there  is  every  reason  to  expect  mistakes  in 
identification,  unless  there  be  some  marks  in  the  mental 
accompaniment  or  escort  of  reproductions  upon  which  the 
mind  may  seize.  That  there  are  such  differences  is  seen  in 
the  possibility  of  detecting, and  banishing  illusions,  but  the 
great  similarities  in  the  case  lead  us,  in  common  life,  to 
overlook  them. 

'  For  example,  when  we  are  already  sure  there  is  fire  in  the  house 
it  is  very  easy  to  smell  it. 
2  See  above,  pp.  129  f . 


ABSENCE  OF  INTERNAL  STIMULUS.  195 

II.  Absence  of  Internal  Stimulus.  The  means  by 
which,  in  all  cases  of  active  imagination,  a  reproduction  is 
known  to  be  such,  is  found,  at  least  in  part,  in  the  feeling 
of  voluntary  effort  put  forth  in  the  revival.  This  effort  is 
directive,  as  has  been  seen  in  speaking  of  the  selective 
attention,  and  is  accompanied  by  the  weariness  which  all 
attention  occasions.  We  are  conscious  of  having  a  mental 
agency  in  the  reproduction,  of  being  ourselves  responsible 
in  part  for  the  outcome.  This  we  may  call  an  internal 
stimulus,  as  contrasted  with  the  sense  or  organic  excitations 
from  which  ordinary  presentations  arise.  An  entire  train 
or  network  of  ideas  may  thus  be  built  up,  constituting 
a  secondary  consciousness,  parallel  with  the  first  or  true 
series  of  presentations.  The  voluntarily  pictured  scene 
ma}^  arise  before  me — my  distant  home,  friends,  and  all  the 
familiar  surroundings,  with  myself  among  them.  But  be- 
neath it  all  is  my  matter-of-fact  present  consciousness, 
the  true  state  of  my  mind,  in  diffused  and  vague  attention. 
I  attach  no  belief  to  the  former,  because  I  feel  myself 
either  responsible  for  its  production  or  capable  of  modi- 
fying or  banishing  it  by  my  will. 

In  thj  illuiional  reproduction,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
is  no  suo!i  feeling  of  origination  or  control.  The  image  is 
presented  in  the  ordinary  course  of  present  experience,  as 
a  part  of  the  normal  content  of  consciousness.  And  the 
subject  is  led  to  the  belief,  in  the  absence  of  internal 
causation,  that  the  representation  is  due  to  an  external 
cause,  that  is,  that  it  arises  from  an  external  object.  In 
this  case  we  fail  to  keep  distinct  tlie  two  consciousnesses, 
the  imagined  scene  being  as  real  to  us  as  that  in  which  we 
actually  move. 

III.  Intra-organic  Stimulus:  Physical  Change.  In 
cases  of  illusion,  if  there  be  anj^  stimulus  or  cause  at  all, 
and  it  be  neither  of  mental  nor  of  external  origin,  we  are 
driven  to  the  third  and  true  alternative  :  the  stimulus  is 
intra-organic  ;  it  arises  from  a  given  condition  or  modificc^-. 


196  ILLUSIONS. 

tiou  of  the  bodily  organism  itself.  We  have  found  that 
the  nervous  process  which  underlies  reproduction  in  gen- 
eral is  the  same  in  its  special  seat  and  in  its  motor  ten- 
dency as  the  original  perception,  the  stimulus  arising 
either  at  the  nervous  center  or  in  some  portion  of  the 
nerve  courses  or  endings.  The  peculiar  fact  that  the  stim- 
ulus of  a  nerve  course  is  always  located  at  the  extremity, 
and  that  the  special  courses  always  react  in  the  special 
forms  peculiar  to  their  end  organs,  has  also  been  remarked. 
In  these  facts  we  have  data  for  the  projection  of  the 
images  which  arise  from  central  or  general  organic  causes 
into  the  field  of  real  perception.  Sensations  of  liglit,  for  ex- 
ample, due  to  the  self-discharge  of  the  center  for  sight  in  the 
brain — which  may  be  the  case  when  the  irritability  of  the 
center  is  very  high — or  to  the  existence  of  resident  light- 
points  in  the  darkened  retinal  field,  arising  from  spontane- 
ous excitation  by  friction  or  disease,  or  again,  to  mechan- 
ical violence  done  to  the  optic  nerve  at  any  point — are 
alike  referred  to  external  luminous  objects.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  the  central  process  to  indicate  the  source  of  the 
stimulus.  The  hearing  also  is  often  occupied  with  excita- 
tions which  have  no  external  sound  counterpart.  Children 
hear  voices  speaking  to  them,  visionaries  receive  messages 
from  heaven.  All  of  these  are  cases. of  spontaneous  excita- 
tion in  the  ear  or  center,  or  are  due  to  actual  noises  in  the 
head  or  body,  convej^ed  through  the  tissues  to  the  auditory 
apparatus.  Among  the  causes  of  hallucination  enumerated 
by  Griesinger  are  the  following,  which  are  entirely  phys- 
ical :  (1)  local  disease  in  the  organ  of  sense  ;  (2)  deep 
phj^sical  exhaustion  ;  (3)  outward  calm  and  stillness — 
absence  of  external  stimulus,  as  in  sleep  ;  (4)  action  of 
drugs,  hasheesh,  opium,  etc.,  and  many  deep-seated  diseases. 
IV".  Mental  Predisposition  to  Illusion.  The  physical 
processes  which  underlie  reproduction  are  liable  to  get  into 
the  habit  of  discharging  in  certain  ways,  and  the  same  may 
ly'v'  sai4  of  the  habits  of  mind.     In  the  lirst  place,  the  asso- 


MENTAL  PREDISPOSITION  TO  ILLUSION        197 

oiative  law  of  interest  holds,  determining  the  kind  of  illusion 
to  which  one  is  most  liable.  Further  than  this,  long  indul- 
gence in  any  train  of  thought,  or  frequent  repetition  of  the 
same  mental  imagery,  tends  to  give  a  whole  class  of  images 
a  readiness  and  facility  which  often  become  organic  and 
illusional.  But  by  far  the  most  important  class  of  cases 
arising  from  mental  predisposition  come  from  a  state  of 
high  mental  expectancy.  In  this  state  the  image  or  idea 
of  the  expected  object  or  event  is  kept  so  constantly  and 
strongly  in  mind  that  the  subject  conceives  of  it  as  already 
accomplished.  Other  events  or  images  take  on  the  form 
of  the  expected  event  or  image,  by  an  assimilation  to  be 
spoken  of  later  on,  A  good  illustration  is  found  in  the 
anticipation  of  an  expected  sound,  when  it  is  to  be  in- 
serted in  a  series  of  other  sounds,  the  expectant  attention 
being  strained  to  receive  it/  The  illusions  of  the  theater 
are  due  to  this  mental  predisposition.  And  the  success  of 
the  spiritualist  in  bringing  up  ghosts,  lifting  tables,  and 
doing  other  wonders  turns  upon  the  readiness  of  his  audi- 
ence to  fall  into  illusion.  Furthermore,  the  state  of  expec- 
tancy is  greatly  enhanced  by  the  addition  of  violent  emotion, 
as  fear  or  hope.  When  under  a  state  of  great  fear  the 
most  unoffending  objects  take  on  the  form  of  our  appre- 
hension :  ordinary  noises  become  the  footfall  of  burglars, 
a  harmless  bush  in  a  graveyard  is  a  spirit,  slight  bodily 
pains  are  made  the  symptoms  of  frightful  diseases.  The 
emotion  has  an  immediate  influence  in  quickening  and  con- 
centrating the  attention,  and  the  attention  in  turn  keeps 
the  expected  image  present,  even  when  the  peripheral  stim- 
ulation is  of  the  most  opposed  nature.  And  the  illusion  is 
sometimes  so  powerful  that  it  affects  more  than  one  sense. 

A  further  and  perhaps  more  common  predisposition  to 
illusion,  in  the  normal  processes  of  mind,  is  found  in  the 
assumption  which  we  all  readily  make,  that  average  and 
ordinary  experience  is  truthful.  The  growth  of  mind, 
from  its  earliest  stages,  is  based  upon  this  assumption. 
'  See  chap.  viii.  §  7. 


198  ILLUSIONS. 

Indeed,  development  in  mind  is  the  progressive  adaptation 
of  the  subjective  to  the  objective,  tlie  refinement  of  liar- 
mony  in  a  relation  of  which  each  term  is  dependent  on 
the  other.  For  this  reason  trust  in  sensations,  images, 
reasoning  is  a  part  of  those  processes  themselves.  It  is 
only  when  we  find  violence  done  to  our  trusts  that  the 
feeling  of  illusion  enters  consciousness  at  all.  The  real 
fact  demanding  explanation  is  not  the  question,  why  do 
we  confide  in  some  states  which  are  not  real  in  fact,  but 
why  do  we  not  confide  in  all  states.  Just  as  the  little 
child  confides  in  all  men  by  nature,  and  learns  from  painful 
experience  that  all  cannot  be  trusted,  so  he  confides  at  first, 
also,  in  all  his  mental  states,  and  learns  by  an  experience 
just  as  costly  that  some  are  deceptive.  With  this  new 
experience  comes  also  the  means  of  defense  against 
similar  illusions,  and  so  the  indications  are  learned  by 
which,  under  careful  weighing,  the  illusive  state  may  be 
detected. 

§  3.  Kinds  of  Illusion. 

The  general  characteristics  of  all  illusional  states  have 
until  now  been  considered.  Looking  at  special  cases  more 
closely  we  find  that  they  may  be  divided  into  two  general 
classes  :  First,  there  are  man^^  cases  in  which  the  state 
w^hich  constitutes  the  illusion,  w^hile  itself  largely  inde- 
pendent of  an  external  stimulus,  is  yet  brought  into  con- 
sciousness through  some  real  object  different  in  character 
from  what  it  is  taken  to  be :  that  is,  cases  in  which  the 
image  seen  is  a  misinterpretation  of  some  real  thing. 
This  is  called  Illusion  Proper.  Second,  tlier^  are  cases  in 
which  the  image  is  not  connected  with  any  external  thing 
whatever,  but  is  a  pure  projection  into  the  conscious  field 
of  presentation.     This  is  called  Hallucination. 

I.  Illusion  Proper.  At  the  outset  we  find  ourselves 
face  to  face  with  the  whole  class  of  experiences  in  which 
a  mental  state  has  a  wTong  value  assigned  to  it.     There 


KINDS  OF  ILLUSIOX.  199 

are,  really,  two  conscious  values  involved,  one  the  rightful 
stimulus  as  it  breaks  into  consciousness,  say  the  striking 
of  the  clock  ;  the  other,  the  image  of  something  different, 
formed  within  the  domain  of  the  same  sense  quality,  and 
usually  prominent  in  consciousness  before  the  time  of  the 
illusion  ;  as  the  alarm  of  fire,  into  which  the  striking  of 
the  clock  is  interpreted.  The  latter  alone  is  an  image  in 
the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  i.  e.,  a  representation.  The 
stimulus  may  not  produce  its  proper  presentation  at  all, 
but  it  may  yet  be  used  to  induce  an  improper  one. 

The  identification  may  proceed  upon  similarities  which 
are  verj^  vague.  In  states  of  strong  emotional  tension, 
simply  the  quality  of  the  affection — as  coming  from  the 
same  sense — is  suflicient  to  produce  illusion;  or  even  further 
than  this,  the  mere  fact  of  sense  stimulation  brings  the 
dominant  image  into  apperception,  with  all  the  marks  of 
reality.  The  fact  that  the  sensorium  is  in  a  state  of 
reaction  is  sufficient,  the  special  stimulus  experienced 
being  interpreted  into  that  aspect  of  the  illusional  image, 
which  would  appeal  to  the  same  sense,  if  it  were  real.  The 
timid  traveler  in  the  woods  of  the  West  at  night  not  only 
mistakes  trees  for  Indians,  but  every  sound  becomes  the 
soft  tread  of  the  savage.  The  dreaded  thing  is  so  in- 
trenched in  the  center  of  converging  lines  of  association 
that  the  same  image  is  called  up  whatever  sense  is  brought 
into  play.  It  is  easily  seen  also  that  this  is  more  readil}^ 
the  case  when  the  sense  stimulation  is  uncertain  or  vague 
in  its  character — as  vision  at  night — since  in  this  case  there 
are  fewer  points  of  opposition  to  be  overcome. 

The  actual  process,  therefore,  in  cases  of  illusio!i  proper 
is  one  of  Assimilation.  The  elements  which  should  form 
one  image  are  assimilated  to  another,  under  conditions 
of  attentive  or  emotional  excitement.  Further,  the  in- 
tensity of  the  actual  sensation  passes  over  to  the  false  image, 
thus  bringing  it  into  greater  harmony  with  the  actual  en- 
vironment. 


200  ILLUSIONS. 

Elements  of  Reality  in  the  Illusion  Proper.  In  virtue 
also  of  its  extra-organic  origin  the  illusion  proper  has  ele- 
ments of  reality  brought  into  it  which  are  wanting  to  tlie 
hallucination.  The  local  relations  of  percepts  give  each 
of  them  a  peculiar  character.  A  representation,  on  the 
contrary,  has  no  space  locality.  Even  in  our  dreams,  in 
which  the  independence  and  isolation  of  the  imaginations 
from  disturbing  reality  is  as  great  as  is  possible,  their 
localization  is  vague  and  changing  :  the  relations  of  space 
are  extremely  confused.  And  their  bond  of  connection 
with  one  another  in  other  respects  is  of  so  loose  and  un- 
important a  kind  that  the  most  startling  and  inconsistent 
transformations  do  not  surprise  us. 

In  the  assimilation,  however,  upon  which  illusion  proper 
rests  these  two  characters  are  supplied  by  the  assimilated 
elements.  The  reproduced  image  steps  into  the  shoes,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  sensation,  and  appropriates  both  its  local 
position  and  its  bonds  of  connection  in  the  network  of 
actual  fact.  The  Indian  seen  in  the  forest  is  no  longer  a 
vague,  placeless  image,  flitting  here  and  there  in  conscious- 
ness, with  no  relations  to  other  images,  but  he  takes  the 
place  of  the  tree  which  is  assimilated  to  him,  and  all  its 
definiteness  of  place,  time,  and  environment  becomes  his. 
For  this  reason,  as  wnll  appear,  the  detection  of  illusions  is 
more  difficult  than  that  of  hallucinations. 

II.  Hallucination.*  In  hallucination  all  extra-organic 
stimulation  is  wanting.  The  illusional  image  is  a  pure 
projection  of  mind.  For  this  reason  we  find  that  both  the 
mental  and  the  physical  process  is  of  exaggerated  intensity. 
On  the  mental  side  it  is  only  when  the  force  of  attention 
has  been  so  long  or  so  violently  exerted  that  an  image 
becomes  fixed  or  imperative,  that  it  attains  the  appearance 
of  actuality.     And  on  the  physical  side  not  only  is  the 

'  On  the  further  classification  and  description  of  particular  kinds  of 
illusions  see  the  section  on  "Range  of  Illusion"  in  my  Handbook  of 
Psychology,  vol.  i.  chap.  xiii.  §  4. 


DETECTION  AND  RECTIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS.   201 

nervous  center  liiglily  excitable,  but  it  is  in  actual  movement; 
its  discharge  is  automatic  :  instead  of  proceeding  from  the 
action  of  peripheral  or  central  stimuli  it  proceeds  in  spite 
of  all  opposing  stimuli.  This  state,  either  of  mind  or  body, 
is  always  near  the  line  of  disease  ;  cases  of  hallucination 
in  normal  health  are  extremely  rare,  and  arise  mostly  from 
great  weariness  in  the  mental  life.  Thorough-going  hal- 
lucinations are  rare,  further,  from  the  absence  of  all  means 
of  localizing  them,  and  of  connecting  them  properly  with 
outside  states.  Even  when  they  are  localized  outside  us 
the  absence  of  connections  enables  us  to  detect  them. 
Yet  in  some  cases  they  carry  their  associated  escort  of 
images  with  them,  giving  a  consistent  series  of  presenta-' 
tions  ;  this  is  the  case  in  hypnotic  hallucination. 

§  4.  Detection  and  Rectification  of  Illusions. 

In  general,  illusional  states  have  all  the  characteristics  of 
presentations.  They  are  intense  ;  they  are  localized  ;  they 
are  more  or  less  fixed  in  an  escort  or  ideal  environment, 
which  gives  them  an  apperceptive  truthfulness  and  force  ; 
and  they  are  beyond  our  control.  For  the  detection  of 
illusion  it  is  only  necessary  that  an  image  lose  some  or  all 
of  these  attributes  of  reality  :  that  is,  that  it  become  very 
feeble,  that  it  have  no  definite  localization,  that  it  appear 
in  consciousness  with  an  inappropriate  apperceptive  escort, 
or  with  none,  or  that  it  be  subject  to  our  voluntary  influ- 
ence. Hence  from  the  nature  of  the  illusional  state  itself 
we  have  several  means  of  detecting  it,  which,  when  found 
existing  together,  make  the  case  unmistakable. 

1.  Diminished  Intensity.  The  fact  of  diminished  in- 
tensity, as  distinguishing  an  image  from  a  sense  presenta- 
tion, has  already  been  dwelt  upon.  The  fact  applies  to 
all  possible  reproductions.  This  test  is  of  little  value  in 
cases  of  very  vivid  representation,  and  in  cases  where 
localization  enters,  since,  in  such  cases,  this  latter  fact  is 
the  controlling  one.     But  in  cases  of  vague  sensation,  and 


202  ILLUSIONS. 

of  sensations  which  are  not  customarily  localized,  we  are 
driven  to  the  discrimination  in  intensity  as  the  only  means 
of  detecting  illusion. 

2.  Absence  of  Definite  Locality.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  the  case  of  an  image  whose  corresponding  sensation 
is  always  localized — as  images  of  sight  and  touch — tlie 
absence  of  spatial  locality  is  at  once  a  sufficient  means  of 
testing  it.  However  intense,  detailed,  clear,  and  persist- 
ent, for  example,  the  image  of  a  house  may  be,  if  it  is  not 
localized  in  front,  behind,  somewhere  in  the  visual  field,  we 
pronounce  it  at  once  an  illusion.  The  same  is  also  true,  in 
the  main,  of  localization  in  time,  in  cases  of  illusion  of 
memory. 

3.  Inappropriate  Escort.  This  test  gives  us  a  very 
convenient  and  practicable  method  of  banishing  illusions 
whenever  sense  perceptioji,  generally,  and  logical  thought 
are  normal.  The  character  which  we  instinctively  look  for 
in  illusions  is  incongruity  or  contradiction.  The  primary 
consciousness  of  the  actual  world,  as  it  breaks  in  through 
the  open  avenues  of  sense,  presenting  a  consistent  whole 
reported  by  all  the  senses  together,  suffers  immediate  vio- 
lence by  the  intrusion  of  a  representation  which  has  no 
external  truth.  Incongruities  and  inconsistencies  at  once 
arise.  These  may  all  be  considered  as  some  form  of  con- 
tradiction in  consciousness,  and  lead  us  to  the  principle 
known  as  co7itradictory  representation.  Tliis  principle  may 
be  stated  thus:  qftvjo  contradictory  states  of  consciousness 
one  at  least  must  be  false.  In  the  processes  of  reasoning  we 
find  the  same  principle.  In  the  sphere  of  representation 
this  contradiction  takes  a  form  of  repressive  or  antagonistic 
opposition  among  images,  called  inhibition  ;  ^  the  quality 
and  range  of  escort  being  the  ground  of  decision  as  to 
which  is  true  and  which  false.  In  many  cases  the 
escort  of  the    true    presentation    is    already   so  fixed    in 

'  On  the  analogy  between  nervous  and  mental  inhibition  see  Hand- 
book of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap.  ii.  §  4. 


IKAPPBOPBIATE  ESCORT.  203 

consciousness  and  confirmed  by  different  experiences 
that  a  lialliicination  is  at  once  detected.  A  visual 
image  is  seen  on  the  background  of  a  wall  or  forest, 
whicli  latter  comes  strongly  out  when  attended  to,  and 
the  hallucination  disappears.  An  appeal  is  often  made 
to  another  sense  to  refute  such  an  image.  Tlie  other  sense, 
as  touch,  establishes  a  different  external  series,  and  the  hal- 
lucination is  detected.^  This  last  form  of  contradiction — 
that  between  two  different  senses — affords  the  only  prac- 
ticable test,  in  many  cases,  of  illusion  proper  in  perception, 
since,  as  has  been  seen,  the  real  object  in  this  case  gives  to 
the  illusional  image  its  locality  and  escort,  as  far  as  a  single 
sense  is  concerned.  There  is  nothing  in  the  physical  sur- 
roundings to  lead  us  to  believe  that  the  Indian  is  not  really  a 
tree,  or  that  the  slight  noise  is  not  his  tread.  On  approach- 
ing and  touching  the  tree,  however,  our  illusion  of  sight  is 
rectified.  Further,  we  have  here  the  reason  for  frequent 
hallucination  and  illusion  when  the  organ  of  sense  is 
fatigued.  The  incapacity  of  the  organ  to  produce  the 
normal  presentation,  and  its  proper  escort,  removes  the 
means  of  detecting^  creatures  of  the  imas^ination. 

This  principle  of  contradiction  also  enables  us  to  bring 
to  bear  upon  images  the  conclusions  of  a  higher  nature, 
which  we  have  before  reached — conclusions  based  upon 
sufficient  reasons.  Memory,  natural  law,  testimony,  expe- 
rience, rational  truth,  any  of  these  may  lead  us  to  dis- 
believe in  an  image,  though  it  persists  in  our  conscious 
life.  A  resident  of  New  York  would  not  believe  that  a 
herd  of  buffalo  had  been  seen  in  Central  Park  or  a  wild 
Indian  in  his  drawing  room  ;  a  stone  unsupported  in  mid- 
air Ave  simply  treat  as  an  absurdity.  In  all  such  cases 
the  sense  report  is  subordinated  to  higher  knowledge  or 
conviction. 

'  Christ  appealed  to  this  test  in  telling  Thomas  to  touch  his  body  ; 
the  vision  might  well  have  been  a  halluciuation,  due  to  exhaustion  or 
grief. 


204  ILLVSI0N8. 

4.  Voluntary  Control.  Our  ability  to  banish,  modify, 
or  control  a  presentation  is  a  further  and  the  most  unfail- 
ing test  of  its  reality,  since  resistance  to  our  voluntary 
eifort  is  the  fundamental  character  of  external  reality.  This 
point  has  further  explanation  below.* 

^  See  p.  258. 


ELABORATIOK 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THOUGHT.i 

§  1.  ISTature  of  Thought. 

General  Character  of  the  Thinking  Process.  As  a 
departure  in  the  mental  life  thought  seems  in  its  nature  to 
present  processes  hitherto  wanting  in  our  study.  Thought, 
thinking,  reasoning,  characterize  an  operation  at  first  sight 
distinct  from  imagination,  memory,  perception.  Yet  it  is 
from  these  subordinate  operations,  considered  alone,  that 
thought  is  distinct,  not  from  the  process  of  apperception, 
which  includes  them  all. 

Thought  is  not  a  "  power  "  or  "  faculty  "  as  held  by  the 
old  psychology.  It  is  rather  the  fuller  exhibition  of  the  one 
activity  which  we  find  in  consciousness.  In  thought 
only  does  the  attention,  which  is  limited  by  the  senses  in 
perception,  and  misled  by  the  range  and  freedom  of  repro- 
duction, in  imagination,  get  the  upper  hand,  and  follow  its 
own  rubrics  of  independent  action.  As  related  to  percep- 
tion, therefore,  thought  may  be  called  the  synthesis  of 
percepts,  as  perception  is  the  synthesis  of  sensations  ;  and 
as  related  to  imagination,  it  may  be  called  the  construction 
of  combinations  in  accordance  with  laws  of  its  own,  and 
the  laws  of  external  truth  ;  just  as  imagination  is  the 
construction  of  combinations  in  accordance  with  the  laws 
of  mental  reproduction.  For  example,  we  may  imagine 
Samson  dead  and  the  temple  of  the  Pliilistines  still  stand- 

*  Cf.  my  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  chap.  iv. 

205 


206  THOUGHT. 

ing  ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  mere  coexistence  of  the  rep- 
resentations to  forbid  it.  But  we  cannot  thmk  it,  for  it 
violates  tlie  mental  principle  of  cause  and  eifect. 

Stages  in  Thought.  The  process  which  we  call  thought 
has  three  stages  which  may  be  somewhat  artificially  dis- 
tinguished from  one  another,  i.  e..  Conception,  Judgment, 
Reasoning. 

§  2.  Conception. 

Process  of  Conception.  Conception  is  the  process  by 
which  we  reach  the  geiieral  notion  /  which  is,  as  shall  be 
seen  below,  a  representative  state  of  mind,  holding  the 
attention  upon  a  plurality  or  class  of  objects  taken  together, 
or  upon  any  individual  considered  as  a  member  of  a  class, 
and  not  as  an  individual.  Man,  tree,  government,  virtue, 
are  general  notions.  Considered  as  products  of  conception 
they  are  called  concepts,  and  considered  as  names,  in 
language,  terms.  The  concept  is  related  to  the  percept 
somewhat  as  the  percept  to  the  sensation.  The  percept  is 
built  up  upon  the  basis  of  sensations,  but  can  be  applied 
to  a  single  sensation  only  as  it  is  representative  of  others, 
or  carries  the  force  of  others  in  itself  ;  so  a  concept  is 
built  up  upon  percepts,  and  can  be  applied  to  a  single  per- 
cept only  as  it  is  taken  to  represent  others.  Tiie  range  of 
a  concept  in  its  application  to  individuals  is  called  its 
Extension  or  breadth ;  thus  man  has  greater  extension 
tlian  poet.  It  applies  to  a  greater  number  of  single  things. 
And  the  meaning  of  a  concept  in  regard  to  the  qualities, 
attributes,  or  characteristics  which  it  includes,  is  called  its 
Intension  or  depth  ;  thus  poet  has  greater  intension  than 
man,  since,  in  addition  to  the  qualities  of  all  men,  it 
includes  the  quality  of  being  poetical.  The  growth  of  the 
concept  may  be  observed  from  the  side  either  of  intension 
or  extension  ;  in  the  former  case  it  is  known  as  Abstrac- 
tion; in  the  latter,  as  Generalization. 

I.  Abstraction.  1.  Analysis.  The  finished  perception 
or  intuition  of  a  thing,  it  will  be  remembered^  involves  ^ 


ABSTRACTION.  207 

synthesis  of  sensational  elements  giving  a  percept.  The 
percept,  in  its  first  experience,  however,  is  thrown  into 
consciousness  by  external  causes  and  has  no  clear  outline. 
The  cliild's  first  sight  of  liis  father  is  only  a  mass  of  visual 
sensations,  and  when  he  begins  to  use  the  name  supplied 
from  without,  he  applies  it  to  any  man  indiscriminately. 
He  has  no  such  thing  as  a  general  conception  of  man  ;  for 
the  reason  he  calls  a  stranger  papa  is  not  that  the  term 
applies  equally  to  other  men,  but  that  he  mistakes  the 
individual  for  the  man  he  is  accustomed  to  call  papa. 
Yet  in  the  psychological  state  of  the  child  we  recognize 
the  beginning  of  a  general  notion — an  image  or  symbol 
which  answers  for  any  one  of  many  individuals.  So  it  is 
probably,  also,  with  animals.  The  peculiar  features  of 
different  men  are  undetected,  and  the  intension  of  the 
term,  while  very  great,  is  of  the  most  apparent  super- 
ficiality. This  I  believe  to  be  the  origin  of  the  general 
notion,  i.  e.,  a  particular  experience  accepted  and  trusted 
in  as  representative  of  other  experiences.  In  adult  think- 
ing when  new  conceptions  enter  our  mental  life  it  is  from 
the  broadest  and  vaguest  mental  pictures  that  they  grad- 
ually take  form.  My  first  experience  of  a  new  word,  say 
government,  in  my  reading,  gives  me  only  the  vague 
meaning  which  I  gather  from  the  context.  I  carry  this 
conception,  under  which  all  conceivable  forms  of  govern- 
ment might  pass,  until  from  some  other  source  my  idea  is 
clarified.  From  this  point  increasing  experience  leads  me 
to  limit  the  meaning  of  the  term  by  dropping  marks  which 
are  not  always  present.  Abstraction  is  not  a  voluntary 
dropping  off  of  certain  qualities  in  order  that  another, 
already  selected,  may  be  considered  alone.  This  would 
involve  the  conception  which  is  in  question  beforehand 
ready  made.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  gradual,  unforeseen 
process  of  elimination,  as  the  discovery  of  truth  necessitates 
it.  Instead  of  starting  with  different  governments,  ab- 
stracting the  quality  of  sovereignty   from  them  all,   and 


208  THOUOHT. 

leaving  behind  their  individual  characters,  I  begin  with  a 
vague  notion  of  government,  and  by  analysis  through 
experience  find  that  sovereignty  alone  is  essential  to  all 
its  forms.  That  is,  the  intensive  meaning  of  my  notion  is 
analyzed,  and  only  those  qualities  retained  which  experi- 
ence allows  me  to  retain.  This  form  of  abstraction  may 
be  called  Analysis. 

This  process  of  analysis  is  furthered  by  the  actual  play 
of  representations  in  memory.  By  the  law  of  the  pro- 
gressive fading  of  memories  in  the  past,  individual  pecu- 
liarities are  lost,  and  individuals  of  the  same  general  nature 
are  identified  with  one  another.  The  dim,  shadowy  outline 
thus  recalled  serves  the  purposes  of  the  general  notion, 
while  tlie  particular  feature  or  element  of  it  which  gets 
repeated  is  emphasized  and  so  "  abstracted."  This  ac- 
counts for  the  greater  vagueness  and  indefiniteness  of  the 
unessential  and  unremarked  elements  of  the  image,  as  the 
notion  becomes  more  general.  This  reduction  of  images 
to  a  single  "composite"  or  "generic  image"  is  typified  in 
composite  photography,  as  Galton  has  shown.* 

2.  Synthesis.  Yet  another  result  from  experience  is  nec- 
essary to  the  complete  development  of  the  concept  :  its 
enlargement  in  intension.  In  tlie  testing  which  we  con- 
stantly make  of  the  adequacy  of  our  notions  we  find  that 
not  only  must  elements  be  dropped  from  our  first  tentative 
concepts,  but  tliat  others  must  be  added.  New  discoveries 
constantly  increase  the  intension  of  familiar  concepts. 
Research  in  natural  science  reveals  an  unexpected  property 
in  a  substance,  or  mark  in  a  specimen,  w^hich  is  thereafter 
a  part  of  the  concept.  This  continual  addition  to  the  in- 
tension of  the  concept  is  synthesis. 

We  thus  find  two  kinds  of  change  constantly  going  on 
in  our  concepts,  both  of  which  tend  to  define  and  purify 
them  into  complete  harmony  with  truth.     But  further,  the 

^  Ifiquiiies  into  Ilumaii  Faculty,  cluipter  on  "Composite  Por- 
traiture," 


GENERALIZA  TIOX.  209 

same  process,  especially   its  synthetic  aspect,  tends   to  a 
modification  of  the  concept  in  its  extension. 

II.  Generalization.  Genei-alization  is  the  process  of 
making  more  general  the  application  of  the  class  name  to 
individuals  ;  that  is,  the  bringing  of  more  individuals  within 
the  class.  Abstraction  both  hinders  and  aids  this  process  : 
it  hinders  it,  inasmuch  as  by  removing  the  vagueness 
and  superficiality  of  the  concept  it  rules  out  objects  at 
first  included,  also  because  tlie  synthesis  of  new  qualities 
increases  the  demand  we  make  of  new  objects  ;  and  it  aids 
it,  since,  in  reducing  the  number  of  qualities  included,  it 
enables  more  objects  to  meet  the  intensive  requirement,  and 
since  the  discovery  of  a  new  quality  tends  to  bring  into 
the  class  objects  before  overlooked  which  possess  that 
quality. 

The  process  of  generalization  is  exceedingly  diflScult  and 
in  actual  life  seldom  absolutely  exact.  Only  in  cases  of 
complete  induction  can  we  rest  safely  in  it.  Mistakes  and 
fallacies  in  reasoning,  failures  in  nature- discovery,  are 
usually  found  to  rest  in  hasty  or  superficial  generalization. 
And  further,  we  may  remark  at  this  point  the  very  great 
instability  and  mobility  of  our  concepts.  Since  they  are  a 
development  in  the  mind  depending  upon  experience,  and 
experience  is  unlimited,  our  concepts  are  always  subject  to 
correction  and  revision.  A  concept  which  seems  clear  and 
exact  is  given  a  different  place  and  estimation  in  our 
thought,  often  from  an  hour's  conversation  with  another  ; 
we  say  we  "see  it  in  a  new  light." 

Products  of  Conception.  From  conception,  therefore, 
we  obtain  two  classes  of  ideas  :  the  abstract  notion, 
which  brings  before  us  qualities  regarded  as  more  or  less 
distinct  from  the  things  in  which  they  inhere  ;  and  tlie 
general  notion,  which  brings  before  us  things  in  more 
or  less  disregard  of  the  qualities  which  inhere  in  them. 
The  former  is  a  concept  in  intension,  the  latter  in  exten- 
sion.     To    these,  as   ready  classes,  the  ordinary  percep- 


210  THOUGHT. 

tions  of  our  adult  life  are  referred  by  the  most  rapid 
and  careless  reference. 

Language  in  its  Kelation  to  Conception.  Words 
answer  the  purpose  in  conception  that  images  do  in  percep- 
tion. They  hold  in  a  picture  or  symbol  the  result  of 
the  apperceptive  process.  The  reproduced  image  passes 
through  all  the  phases  of  memory  and  imaginative 
construction  without  repeated  reference  to  the  real 
objects  ;  so  words  carry  through  all  the  higher  operations 
of  thought  the  summary  of  experience  which  the  concept 
represents.  And,  further,^by  means  of  vocal  articulation 
they  make  its  communication  to  others  possible.  Conse- 
quently language  has  a  twofold  psychological  utility  :  1. 
It  fixates  and  expresses  exact  stages  in  mental  product, 
thus  enabling  the  mind,  instead  of  returning  constantly  to 
its  experiential  sources,  to  take  its  departure  from  some 
advanced  position.  2.  It  thus  greatly  abbreviates  and 
facilitates  thought.  A  name,  once  given  to  a  conception, 
holds  it  as  a  conquest,  however  circuitous  and  painful  were 
the  original  route  to  its  acquisition. 

Yet  language  often  serves  to  confuse  and  hinder  thouglit, 
in  that  words  tend  to  give  a  stability  and  fixedness  to  con- 
ceptions, and  do  not  admit  of  the  progress  and  rectification 
which  the  process  of  abstraction  affords.  A  study  of  word 
derivations  shows  the  manner  in  which  conceptions  grow 
away  from  the  first  meanings  of  the  terms  used. 

The  Use  of  Images  in  Conception.  The  image  which 
serves  to  give  representative  force  to  the  concept  has 
already  been  spoken  of.  Further,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
notions  which  are  less  general  have  an  indistinct  mental 
picture,  which  presents  the  barest  outline  or  scheme  of  the 
class  reality.  This  image  is  seen,  if  closely  examined,  to 
result  from  a  succession  of  images  of  particular  objects 
arising  in  quick  succession,  and  then  discarded  as  having 
too  great  intension.  There  is  a  distinct  feeling  of  tlie  inad- 
equacy of  each  image  in  turn,  and  this  feeling  persists  iu 


JUDGMENT.  211 

the  final  representation.  As  Lotze  says,  '*  We  feel  that 
any  other  color  has  an  equal  riglit  to  serve,"  as  that  which 
we  picture  for  the  general  concept  of  color.  This  vague 
outline  takes  its  particular  features  from  the  individuals  to 
which  we  have  given  most  attention  or  from  the  properties 
which,  from  experience,  we  have  come  to  consider  essential. 
The  effect  of  attention,  also,  is  to  bring  out  strongly  cer- 
tain properties  in  the  concept  to  the  neglect  of  others. 

In  the  case  of  the  more  abstract  notions,  however,  it  is 
very  doubtful  whether  we  proceed  by  any  actual  picture  ; 
as  in  the  concepts  virtue  and  gratitude.  Yet  the  image 
of  the  printed  word  often  takes  the  place  of  such  a  picture. 
In  rapid  discourse,  also,  we  seem  to  use  the  words  for 
what  they  themselves  convey,  without  further  imaging. 
There  is  no  reason  that  the  mere  auditory  image  of  a  word 
should  not  answer  the  purposes  of  the  concept  as  well  as  a 
visual  image.^ 

§  3.  Judgment. 

Its  Nature.  The  second  great  stage  in  the  thought 
function  is  judgment.  In  the  judgment  the  discovery  and 
assertion  of  relations  between  mental  states  and,  through 
them,  between  the  things  they  represent,  becomes  the  im- 
portant event  in  consciousness.  It  proceeds  upon  the  basis 
of  conception,  for  its  elements  are  concepts  in  different 
stages  of  growth.  In  its  broadest  definition,  therefore. 
Judgment  is  the  mental  assertion  of  the  degree  and  kind  of 
relationship  already  arrived  at  in  some  stage  of  the  process 
of  concejMon. 

Tliis  will  be  illustrated  in  some  detail  in  the  treatment 
of  the  kinds  of  judgment ;  "^  it  suffices  here  to  give  a  general 
example.  John  is  a  man  is  a  judgment.  It  asserts  that 
the  general  concept  man  has  reached  that  stage  of  devel- 

^  On  the  relation  of  conception  to  reality,  i.  e. ,  the  controversy 
between  Realism,  Nominalism,  etc.,  see  my  Handbook  of  Psychology^ 
vol.  i.  chap.  xiv.  §  2. 
*  §  4,  below. 


212  THOUGHT. 

opment  in  extension  or  generalization  tbat  it  includes  the 
single  concept  John  ;  or,  to  express  the  same  relation  con- 
versely, this  judgment  asserts  that  the  single  concept  John 
has  reached  such  a  stage  of  development  in  intension  that 
its  essential  attributes  include  those  of  the  general  concept 
man.  That  is,  by  a  psychological  assertion  it  is  indicated 
that  the  qualities  of  the  concept  man  liave  become  attached 
to  the  concept  John.  The  expression  of  identity  between 
the  two,  found  in  the  verb  is,  therefore,  is  merely  the  sign 
of  this  mental  movement.  Indicating  by  a  the  sum  of  the 
intensive  marks  already  gathered  up  in  the  logical  subject 
(John),  and  by  h  the  marks  now  added  by  the  assertion  in 
judgment,  the  pyschological  formula  of  judgment  becomes, 

a  is  (=)  ab. 

Law  of  Identity.  The  sign  (=),  in  this  formula,  is 
used  as  equivalent  to  the  word  is,  since,  in  tlie  judgment, 
the  fact  that  I  use  former  experience  as  identical  with  (or 
as  representative  of)  new  experience,  is  still  acted  upon: 
indeed,  it  becomes  a  conscious  principle  of  reasoning,  in  the 
form  of  the  Law  of  Identity  or  Kon-contradiction.  The 
formula  exhibits  the  constant  endeavor  of  the  mind  to 
keep  its  experiences  consistent.  In  the  first  member  of 
this  equation  of  identity,  a  means  the  reality  denoted  by 
the  concept,  in  the  second  member  a  denotes  my  former 
concept  of  this  reality  ;  h  denotes  the  addition  Avhich  I  now 
find  this  former  concept  must  undergo  to  be  true  to,  or 
identical  with,  the  new  experience  of  a.  Of  course  the 
act  of  judging  takes  place  only  after  this  new  experience, 
so  that  what  I  really  do  by  judgment  is  to  bring  my  former 
inadequate  concept  up  to  my  new  light.  Expressed  in 
language,  a  judgment  is  called  a  Proposition. 

Unity  of  the  Judgment.  We  are  led  by  the  above  to 
see  that  the  content  of  judgment  is  not  two  concepts  at  all, 
but  one,  a  concept /w//  of  relations.  This  is  readily  shown 
by  throwing  the  judgment  into  the  form  of  the  modified 


PARTS  OF  TEE  PROPOSITION.  2l3 

concept  ab,  above.  For  example,  the  judgment,  the  dog  is 
force,  considered  psj'cliologically,  amounts  to  the  adding 
of  the  quality  fierce,  b,  to  the  marks  of  dog,  a,  and  the 
product,  rrb,  is  the  single  concept,  fierce  dog.  Under  tliis 
aspect  it  corresponds  to  the  real  object,  which  is  only 
one.  As  far  as  this  point  is  concerned,  the  judgment  is 
not  distinguished  either  from  the  presentation  or  the  concept: 
they  are  all  different  stages  in  the  progressive  growth  of 
apperception.  This  unity  of  the  judgment,  as  a  mental 
product,  is  further  seen  in  simple  judgments  of  existence, 
i.  e.,  giants  exist ;  where  the  predicate  is  not  an  attribute 
or  mark,  but  simply  expresses  the  fundamental  assumption 
of  all  judgment,  belief  in  reality. 

The  essential  feature  of  judgment,  in  contrast  with  con- 
ception, is  therefore  this,  that  it  sets  forth  in  a  conscious 
contemplative  way  the  actual  stage  of  the  thought  move- 
ment. It  brings  out  and  emphasizes  the  belief  which  at- 
taches to  the  concept  in  its  progressive  stages.  In  the 
generalizing  of  the  concept  this  belief  was  present,  as  each 
new  percept  was  brought  within  its  range  ;  and  in  the 
judgment  each  such  belief  becomes  explicit,  John  is  a 
man,  James  is  a  man,  etc.  Asserted  belief  is,  therefore, 
necessary  to  judgment,  and  constitutes  its  distinguishing 
mark.- 

Parts  of  the  Proposition.  The  verbal  judgment,  or 
proposition,  may  be  said  to  be  made  up  of  three  parts  or 
terms  :  the  subject,  that  concept  of  which  the  relation  in 
question  is  asserted  ;  the  predicate,  those  elements  of  con- 
ception which  are  asserted  to  bear  this  relation  to  the 
subject  ;  and  the  copula,  the  verbal  sign  of  the  relation 
between  subject  and  predicate.    In  the  judgment.  Napoleon 

'See  the  discussion  of  "Belief"  below,  and  the  corresponding 
fuller  treatment  in  Handbook  of  Psyclwlogy,  vol.  ii.  chap.  vii.  On  the 
relation  of  judgment  to  belief  the  student  may  also  consult  my 
article  "Feehug,  Belief,  and  Judgment,"  in  Mind,  New  Series, 
vol.  i.  (1892),  p.'403. 


214  THOUGHT. 

conquered  Europe,  these  three  parts  are  seen  in  the  usual 
order,  subject,  copula,  predicate. 

§  4.  Kinds  of  Judgment. 

I.  According  to  Intension.  Judgments  may  be  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  their  structure  as  being  of  two 
kinds :  Analytic  and  Synthetic.  Psychologically,  these 
aspects  of  the  judgment  indicate  different  stages  in  the 
further  development  of  the  concept.  The  analytic  judg- 
ment consists  in  an  expansion  of  the  subject  in  an  assertion 
whose  predicate  has  been  before  included  in  the  intensive 
marks  of  the  subject.  For  example,  trees  have  trunks  is 
an  analytic  judgment,  since  the  marks  represented  by  the 
word  trunk  are  a  necessary  part  of  the  concept  tree,  and  its 
assertion  is  merely  an  expansion  of  that  concept.  This 
form  of  judgment,  therefore,  represents  the  development 
of  the  concept  in  the  stage  of  abstraction  called  above 
analysis.  The  vague  first-notion  tends  toward  definition 
and  differentiation,  by  the  dropping  of  accidental  marks, 
and  the  confirmation  and  assertion  of  those  found  to  be 
essential.  The  synthetic  judgment,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
the  product  of  the  building  up  or  synthetic  process  of 
abstraction.  It  asserts  predicates  before  undiscovered,  or 
unincluded  in  the  notion  as  before  made  up.  For  example, 
cows  are  ruminating  animals  is  a  synthetic  judgment. 
The  quality  of  rumination  is  added  to  the  notion  cow,  as  a 
mark.  And  synthetic  judgments  are  constantly  passing 
into  analytic.  To  the  naturalist,  the  ruminating  quality  is 
essential  to  the  notion  cow,  and  the  judgment  which 
asserts  it  is  analytic. 

This  distinction  may  be  viewed  also  from  the  side  of 
extension.  The  continuous  growth  of  concepts,  through 
the  formation  of  successive  synthetic  judgments,  is  seen  in 
the  process  of  education.  The  pupil's  conception  of  the 
thing  in  hand  is  enriched  by  all  the  predicates  of  his 
instructor's  knowledge. 


CATEGOmCAL  JTTDGMENTS.  ^15 

II.  According  to  Belief:  1.  Categorical  Judgments. 
The  simplest  form  of  mental  assertion,  in  wliicli  an  affirma- 
tion or  negation  is  made,  is  the  categorical  judgment. 

a.  Simple  Categorical :  the  ordinary  synthetic  and  an- 
alytic judgments  already  spoken  of. 

h.  The  Existential  Judgmetit  rests  upon  a  deeper  mental 
movement  than  either  analysis  or  synthesis,  and  represents 
the  assertion,  in  a  special  way,  of  the  belief  which  charac- 
terizes judgment.  It  goes  beyond  belief  in  the  consistency 
and  adequacy  of  concepts  and  their  relations,  and  attaches 
itself  to  belief  in  the  external  reality,  in  nature,  of  what 
the  concept  represents.  The  moon  exists  is  an  existential 
judgment.^ 

Law  of  SuflB-cient  Reason.  The  existential  judgment 
brings  out  not  only  the  natural  tendency  to  believe  in  the 
facts  of  mind  ;  it  supposes  some  question  aroused,  and  its 
refutation,  through  what  we  call  evidence.  There  is  no 
psychological  meaning  in  the  judgment  mermaids  exists — 
unless  I  have,  or  have  had,  some  reason  to  doubt  their  ex- 
istence. The  judgment  rests  therefore  upon  the  removal 
of  this  doubt  by  evidence.  Here  w^e  are  brouglit  face  to 
face  with  the  conscious  working  of  a  great  law  of  thought, 
regulating  and  making  consistent  the  content  of  represen- 
tation, i.  6.,  the  law  of  Sufficient  Reason.  In  the  judgment 
of  existence,  the  ground  or  reason  which  consciousness  has 
for  accepting,  rejecting,  etc.,  for  the  first  time  becomes 
evident  to  itself ;  and  we  find  that  we  cannot  explain 
further  the  fact  that  consciousness  must  work  under  such 
a  principle. 

c.  The  Disjunctive  Judgment  is  a  form  of  categorical 
statement,  in  which  a  disjunction,  or  assertion  of  alter- 
natives, expresses  the  attitude  of  the  mind  with  respect  to 
belief,  toward  a  certain  class  of  facts.     Tliat  is,  the  ground 

'  On  the  nature  of  the  existential  judgment  see  the  article  already 
referred  to  on  "Feeling,  Belief,  and  Judgment,"  in  Mind,  New 
Series,  vol.  i.  (1892),  p.  403. 


^16  TBOVGHT. 

of  the  statement  is  of  such  a  nature,  that  more  than  a  single 
relation  among  the  elements  involved  may  be  possible. 
The  assertion,  therefore,  has  reference  to  all  these  possible 
cases.  For  example,  this  inian  is  either  a  minister  or  a 
lawyer  is  a  disjunctive  judgment,  the  reason  of  its  assertion 
being  adequate  to  either  conclusion,  say  the  dress,  manner, 
conversation,  of  the  person  involved.  Further  search,  or 
clearer  definition  of  the  ground  of  the  assertion,  eliminates 
all  but  one  of  these  alternatives,  and  the  judgment  takes 
the  regular  categorical  form. 

2,  Hypothetical  Judgments.  The  hypothetical  judg- 
ment stands,  with  reference  to  belief,  midway  between  the 
ordinary  assertion  of  the  analytic  and  synthetic  judgments, 
and  that  of  the  existential.  The  former  express  only  belief 
in  the  truth  of  the  relations  brought  out  in  analj^is  or 
synthesis  ;  the  existential  judgment  expresses  only  belief  in 
a  reality  of  the  object  denoted  :  but  the  hypothetical  judg- 
ment has  reference  to  both  these  phases  of  belief.  In  the 
hj^pothetical,  the  ground  or  sufficient  reason  is  cited,  as  tlie 
mental  condition  upon  which  belief  in  the  statement  made 
goes  out.  For  example.  If  the  711  orals  of  the  people  are 
corrupt^  the  Republic  will  not  live,  is  a  hypothetical  judg- 
ment. The  belief  in  the  proposition  (synthetic)  the  lie- 
puhlic  will  not  live,  rests  upon  the  belief  (existential)  in 
the  proposition  the  morals  of  the  people  are  corrupt.  The 
failure  of  this  belief  in  the  sufficient  reason,  or  ayitecedent, 
removes  the  ground  of  belief  in  the  result,  or  consequent, 
and  the  mind  is  left  in  a  state  of  uncertainty.  The  attitude 
of  the  mind  in  this  judgment  may  therefore  be  called  one 
of  contingent  belief.^ 

§  5.  Reasoning. 

We  now  have  to  consider  the  combinations  which  are 
effected  among  judgments  in  the  processes  of  argument 

'  On  the  "  Relation  of  these  different  kinds  of  Judgment  to  one  an- 
other," see  that  head  in  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  chap.  xiv.  §  5. 


THE  SYLLOGISM.  217 

and  Inference.  Reasoning  takes  two  forms  called  Deduc- 
tion and  Induction. 

I.  Deduction:  the  Syllogism.  Psychologically,  the 
syllogism  may  be  defined  as  :  The  assertion  of  a  relation 
beticeeyi  two  concepts  in  consequence  of  the  previous  assertion 
of  the  same  relation  between  each  of  these  two  concepts  and 
a  third. 

TI]e  parts  of  the  syllogism  tlins  brought  out  are  desig- 
nated as  follows  :  the  tw^o  relations  first  asserted  are  called 
premises,  major  and  minor  ;  the  two  concepts  between 
whicli  the  resulting  relation  is  asserted,  terms,  major  and 
minor  ;  and  the  concept  to  which  they  sustain  respectively 
tlie  relations  of  the  premises,  the  middle  term  ;  tlie 
resulting  judgment  is  further  called  the  conclusion.  For 
example  : 

Major  premise — All  men  are  liable  to  error. 
Minor  premise — The  president  is  a  man. 
Conclusion — The  president  is  liable  to  error. 
Major  term — Quality  of  being  liable  to  error. 
Minor  term — The  president. 
Middle  term — Man. 

From  this  definition,  it  appears  that  the  unit  of  syllo- 
gistic construction  is  the  judgment.  It  is  by  the  judg- 
ment, as  a  psychological  movement,  that  both  the  major 
and  minor  terms  are  related  to  tlie  middle  term  in  the 
premises,  a!id  it  is  by  the  judgment  that  their  relation  to 
each  other  is  made  clear  in  the  conclusion. 

The  fact  that  the  product  of  the  reasoning  process  is  the 
judgment,  shows  further  that  the  mental  act  is  the  same 
as  in  conception  ;  that  is,  that  there  is  not  a  further 
mental  synthesis,  in  kind.  The  function  of  reasoning  is 
the  multiplication  and  transformation  of  judgments,  not 
the  derivation  of  new  mental  forms,  nor  the  building  up 
of  new  products.  Reasoning  is,  therefore,  a  process  of 
enrichment  of  our  mental  stores,  through  the  going  out  of 


218  THOTTGET. 

belief,  over  a  wider  range  of  fact,  and  into  deeper  penetra- 
tion of  its  meaning.  The  implications  of  former  beliefs, 
which  were  vague  or  dimly  apprehended,  are  unfolded, 
conceptions  remote  and  disconnected  are  brought  into  the 
general  harmony  of  truth,  in  relations,  perhaps,  befoi'e 
unremarked. 

Conceptual  Interpretation  of  the  Syllogism.  We 
may  further  define  the  syllogism  in  such  a  way  as  to  show 
the  growth  of  the  concept  in  it,  remembering  what  has 
been  said  as  to  the  unity  of  the  judgment  :  Syllogism  is 
the  result  of  a  synthesis  whereby  we  reach  a  new  stage  in 
the  growth  of  a  concept,  in  consequence  of  its  tioofold 
modification  in  the  judgment. 

As  the  former  definition  looks  at  the  syllogism  from  the 
side  of  its  expression,  this  looks  at  it  from  the  side  of  its 
meaning.  Its  apparent  strangeness  vanishes  as  soon  as  we 
refer  the  syllogism  to  the  doctrine  of  conception  as  already 
stated. 

We  have  seen  that  the  product  of  judgment  is  only  the 
concept,  of  which  predication  is  made,  modified  by  the 
addition  of  new  marks  :  a  becomes  ab.  Thus  arises  the 
major  premise.  In  the  minor  premise  the  concept  ab,  or 
middle  term,  is  further  modified  by  the  addition  of  c, 
minor  term  ;  that  is,  ab  becomes  abc.  The  conclusion  is 
then  simply  the  statement  of  the  result,  that  a  has  be- 
come abc: 

a  is  (==)  ab  ; 

(1)  ab  is  (=)  abc  ; 
hence  a  is  (=)  abc. 

John  is  (John)  man  ; 

(2)  (John)  man  is  (John  man)  mortal ; 
hence  John  is  (John  man)  mortal. 

This  simply  means  that  the  reality  John  requires  that  I 
add  to  my  notion  John,  the  marks  of  man,  and  the  marks 
of  man  further  carry  with  them  the  mark  mortality.     So 


iNDtJCTiON.  219 

tliat  my  concept  John  must  hereafter  carry  with  it  the 
marks  of  man  including  the  mark  mortality.  The  process 
exhibits  again  the  striving  of  the  mind  to  preserve  the 
identity  of  its  conceptions  through  new  experience. 

§  6.  Inductiox. 

II.  Induction.  The  second  kind  of  reasoning,  induction, 
proceeds  by  a  direct  appeal  to  experience  rather  tlian  by  a 
comparison  of  concept  with  concept.  It  reaches  a  state- 
ment or  "  conclusion  "  of  what  new  experience  is  likely  to 
be  from  what  it  has  been.  It  represents,  accordingly,  the 
tendency  of  consciousness  to  go  a  little  ahead  of  the  facts 
already  discovered  to  the  construction  of  a  statement  or 
hypothesis  to  explain  them.  The  uses  of  induction  have 
already  been  discussed  in  the  chapter  above  on  "Method 
in  Psychology."* 

Relation  of  Induction  and  Deduction.  The  two  proc- 
esses of  induction  and  deduction  do  not  exclude  or  in- 
validate each  other,  but  are  the  united  engine  of  discovery 
and  proof.  The  first  way  of  knowledge  is  by  experience, 
which  is  taken  up  in  conception,  and  cast  into  the  form  of 
hypothesis  or  empirical  law,  by  induction.  These  first 
stages  in  the  growth  of  thought  give  us  a  point  of  elevation 
for  again  exploring  the  varieties  of  experience,  and  bringing 
new  classes  of  fact  under  our  conquest  by  deduction.  Thus 
there  is  a  constant  action  and  reaction  between  the  two 
processes  of  reasoning  :  one  leading  us  from  the  particular 
to  the  general,  the  other  from  the  general  back  to  the  par- 
ticular. And  for  each  such  excursion,  we  are  richer  in  our 
mental  store. 

§  7.  Proof. 

Proof  is  the  inverse  process  of  inference.  In  the  syl- 
logism and  in  induction,  we  are  given  premises,  tlie  sufficient 
reason,  to  find  the  conclusion,  the  result :  in  proof,  on  the 

^  Chap.  ii. 


220  THOUGHT. 

contrary,  we  are  given  a  conclusion,  or  tJieMs,  to  find  its 
sufficient  reason,  or  ground.  For  example,  given  the  thesis 
the  presideyit  is  liable  to  error,  it  is  proved  by  finding  the 
sufficient  reason,  all  men  are  liable  to  error  and  the  2:>resident 
is  a  man.  The  essential  nature  of  proof,  therefore,  consists 
in  establishing  belief,  or  giving  reality  to  a  thesis. 

The  adequacy  of  the  ground  thus  reached  is  tested  by 
throwing  it  into  the  regular  forms  of  reasoning  :  either 
deductively,  as  in  a  syllogism,  concluding  to  the  thesis  ;  or 
inductively,  by  raising  the  thesis  to  tlie  rank  of  a  hypo- 
thesis by  the  citation  of  particular  cases  in  whicli  it  seems 
to  be  true.  Thus  the  tliesis,  poets  are  liable  to  error,  may 
be  proved  by  this  deduction  : 

All  men  are  liable  to  error  ; 
poets  are  men  ; 

\\QX\Qe  poets  are  liable  to  error  ; 
or  inductively, 

Tennyson,  Wordsworth,  etc.,  are  liable  to  error ; 
but  Tennyson,  Wordsworth,  etc.,  are  poets  ; 
hence  2?oets  are  liable  to  error  y 
the  major  premise  being  a  hypothesis  tested  in  experience. 

Deductive  proof  alone  gives  complete  certaint}^,  since 
the  ground  is  some  rational  or  thoroughly  established  prin- 
ciple. Its  province  is  the  proof  of  singulars,  or  of  sub- 
ordinate laws.  Inductive  proof,  on  the  other  hand,  never 
reaches  absolute  conclusiveness,  except  in  exhaustive  induc- 
tions, and  is  of  use  in  establishing  general  and  higher  laws. 
It  covers  proof  by  analogy,  testimony,  circumstantial  proof, 
and  other  forms.* 

§  8.  Ideal  Product  of  Thought:  The  Rational  Function. 

As  a  process  of  synthesis,  thought  brings  into  clearer 
light  and  greater  definiteness  the  ideal  products  of  per- 

'  On  proof  in  general,  see  Sidgwick's  excellent  chapter  in  his 
book  on  Fallacies. 


THE  RATIONAL  FUNCTION.  221 

ception  and  representation  :  laiity,  contradiction,  identity, 
etc.  We  come  through  thought,  also,  to  the  apprehension 
and  statement  of  the  principles  of  Reason  which  underlie 
and  regulate  all  mental  movement.  The  fundamental 
forms  of  Reason,  as  far  as  they  belong  to  intellect,  have 
already  been  noted  in  the  foregoing  discussion.  These  are 
the  laws  of  Identity  and  Sufficient  Reason.  Other  rational 
principles  become  apparent  in  connection  with  Feeling  and 
Will.  Their  more  particular  treatment  belongs  to  "  Theory 
of  Knowledge,"  a  department  of  Metaphysics.  For  fuller 
psychological  treatment  see  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol. 
i.  chapc  XV. 


PAET  III. 
FEELING, 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
NATURE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF  SENSIBILITY.^ 

§  1.  Nature  of  Sensibility. 

Definition.  The  term  sensibility  has  been  used  hereto- 
fore as  almost  synonymous  with  consciousness  ;  at  least 
the  assumption  has  been  made  that  when  consciousness  is 
once  reached,  sensibility  or  feeling  is  its  primary  and  most 
general  characteristic. 

Empirical  observation  justifies  this  assumption.  Our 
final  interpretation  of  all  mental  facts  in  common  life  is  in 
terms  of  personal  feeling.  How  do  I  know  that  I  am 
willing  a  given  act  of  conduct?  Because  \feel  the  act  of 
will.  My  immediate  ground  of  confidence  is  a  qualitative 
state  of  being  affected,  which  I  have  learned  to  distinguish 
in  my  experience  under  the  name  will.  How  again  do  I 
reach  the  assurance  that  I  am  thinking  and  not  willing  ? 
By  a  similar  awareness  of  feeling.  I  am  affected  in  the 
way  which  I  call  thought.  The  original  awareness  of  con- 
sciousness, therefore,  is  an  affective  state,  and  sensibility, 
feeling,  is  its  first  content. 

If  this  be  true,  we  would  expect  to  find  feeling  every- 
where in  the  mental  life.  It  would  be  a  more  or  less 
prominent  accompaniment  of  all  i^ossible  states  of  con- 
sciousness. This  view,  though  generally  admitted  by 
psychologists,  is  only  partiall}^  accounted  for  on  many  of 
'  Cf .  Uarulbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap,  iii. 


M0S2'  GENERAL  MARKS  OF  SENSIBILITY.       223 

the  theories  of  sensibility  ;  it  will  become  clearer  after  the 
examination  and  description  of  the  various  classes  of  feelings. 

Looked  at  from  the  fact  of  its  universal  presence,  from 
its  priority  among  conscious  states,  and  from  its  peculiar 
subjectivity  in  opposition  to  the  objective  reference  of 
intellect  and  will,  we  may  arrive  at  a  general  definition  of 
feeling  :  feeling  is  the  subjective  side  of  any  modification 
whatever  of  consciousness.  As  a  general  description  we 
may  say,  further,  that  feeling  is  the  agitation,  excitement, 
of  an  event  in  consciousness,  considered  apart  from  what 
the  event  itself  is  or  means. 

The  fact  of  feeling  is  so  clear  in  our  common  experience 
that  no  more  exact  definition  would  be  needed  if  it  were 
possible.  What  we  mean  by  my  consciousness  in  opposi- 
tion to  your  consciousness  sums  up  feeling.  You  can 
know  the  object  that  I  know  and  you  can  will  the  action 
that  I  will,  but  you  cannot  by  any  possibility  feel  the 
events  that  I  feel  ;  if  I  endeavor  to  describe  my  feeling  to 
you,  by  so  doing  I  make  it  the  object  of  knowledge,  and 
my  state  of  feeling  is  changed.  This  is  subjectivity,  this 
peculiar  and  unapproachable  isolation  of  the  events  of  one 
consciousness  from  another. 

Most  General  Marks  of  Sensibility.  A  distinction 
has  already  been  drawn  between  common  or  general  sen- 
sibility, and  the  more  particular  kinds  of  affective  modifi- 
cation which  we  call  sensations.  The  latter  belon<?, 
speaking  generally,  to  the  more  differentiated  portions  of 
the  nervous  system  provided  with  special  end-organs. 

In  common  feeling ,  therefore,  are  included  all  modifica- 
tions of  sensibility  which  do  not  come  under  any  of  the 
classes  of  special  sensation.  Stated  thus  negatively,  the 
way  is  open  for  the  differentiation  of  this  great  fund  of 
sensibility  into  as  many  particular  divisions  as  psycho- 
logical analysis  may  be  able  to  discover. 

When  such  analysis  has  been  pushed  to  its  extreme  and 
qu:ilitative  differences  in  sensibility  have  been  pointed  out 


224      NATURE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF  SENSIBILITY. 

as  far  as  may  be,  the  point  of  interest  then  remaining  has 
reference  to  the  most  general  marks  of  sensibility  itself, 
the  common  elements  beneath  all  its  concrete  forms.  What 
is  it  that  brings  the  special  as  well  as  the  organic  sensa- 
tions, tlie  vaguest  feelings  of  physical  unrest  as  well  as  the 
acutest  pang  of  an  exposed  nerve,  all  under  the  common 
name  feeling  ?  Such  common  marks  we  find,  first,  in  the 
fact  of  excitement  or  amount  of  consciousness  ;  and,  fur- 
ther, in  the  peculiar  something  wliicli  we  call  pleasure 
and  pain — a  second  element  which  always  accompanies 
and  colors  mental  excitement. 

Pleasure  and  pain  may  be  set  apart,  at  least  for  con- 
venience of  exposition,  from  the  particular  mental  plie- 
nomena  which  they  accompany.  If  pleasure  and  pain  be 
truly  designated  as  a  most  general  characteristic  of  sen- 
sibility, then  no  mental  state  whatever  is  entirely  neutral 
as  respects  pleasure  or  pain.  Yet  in  the  great  complexity 
of  the  developed  mental  life,  where  cross-currents  of  feel- 
ing interfere  with  one  another  and  neutralize  the  effects  of 
one  another,  it  is  quite  possible  that  pleasure  and  pain  may 
not  enter  as  an  outstanding  feature  of  consciousness;  indeed 
such  a  neutrality  as  regards  pleasure  and  pain  may  be 
attained  in  states  of  high  ( motional  excitement,  that  while 
feeling  is  at  its  maximum  it  seems  to  be  without  positive 
hedonic  coloring. 

As  concrete  facts,  however,  pleasure  and  pain  are  always 
elements  added  to  some  conscious  content.  It  is  in  this 
aspect  that  they  are  described  as  (hedonic)  tone^  the  states 
of  which  they  are  the  tone  being  more  or  less  exactly  dis- 
coverable. 

Farther,  states  of  sensibility  are  complex  and  simple.  All 
events  in  consciousness  which  have  distinct  qualitative 
value  (sound,  smell,  fear)  in  addition  to  the  general  marks 
of  sensibility  are  "complex"  states  of  feeling  ;  those  which 
are  simply  consciousness  with  pleasure  or  pain  (if  there  are 
any  such)  are  "  simple." 


DIVISIONS  OF  SEXSIBILITT.  225 

§  2.  Divisions  of  Sensibility. 

In  view  of  the  foregoing,  states  of  sensibility  may  be 
thrown  into  the  following  table  : 

Sensibility  : 

I.  Lower,  or  Sensuous  Sensibility. 

a.  Complex  :  sensuous  feelings. 

1.  Common  sensuous  feelings  )  g^nsations. 

2.  Special  sensuous  feelings      ) 
h.  Simple  :  sensuous  tone. 

II.  Higher,  or  Ideal  Sensibility. 
a.  Complex  :  ideal  feelings. 

1.  Common  ideal  feelings  )    e^^tions. 

2.  Special  ideal  feelings        ) 
h.  Simple  :  ideal  tone. 

We  have  already  discussed  the  quantity,  or  intensity, 
and  the  quality  of  sensations  :  it  remains  to  notice  pleasure 
and  pain.  Thus  the  entire  "affective  element"  in  sensa- 
tion is  exhausted.  The  "  presentative  element "  has  already 
been  found  to  be  due  to  the  apperceptive  function. 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

PLEASURE  AND  PAIN.* 
§  1.  Physical  Conditioxs  of  Pleasure  and  Pain. 

General  Conditions  of  Pain.  Before  an  attempt  is 
made  to  report  the  more  general  organic  conditions  of 
liedonic  tone,  the  empirical  cases  of  the  rise  of  such  pleas- 
ure or  pain  should  be  enumerated.  After  that,  perhaps, 
some  general  characteristics  of  all  such  cases  may  become 
apparent  and  serve  to  throw  light  upon  the  wider  question. 
Phenomena  of  sensuous  pain,  which  may  be  considered 
Urst,  are  clearly  marked. 

1.  Too  much  stimulation  is  a  cause  of  2'><^in.  This  is 
true,  in  the  first  place,  of  higli  inUnsities  in  stimulation. 
The  actual  experience  of  such  painful  intensities  in  the 
cases  of  special  sensation  leads  us  to  look  for  it  in  all  forms 
of  sensibility.  A  blinding  light  is  painful  ;  a  loud  noise 
very  close  to  the  ear,  rapid  friction  of  the  skin,  great  pres- 
sure upon  the  muscles,  etc.,  all  give  rise  to  painful  feeling. 
It  is  true  also  that  very  strong  tastes  and  decided  odors 
are  disagreeable  or  soon  become  so  ;  but  the  case  of  these 
sensations  seems  to  differ  in  some  respect  from  that  of  the 
senses  which  report  acute  pain,  properly  so  called.  Sensa- 
tions of  temperature,  again,  either  heat  or  cold,  give  us 
positive  pain  w^hen  the  degree  of  either  stimulus  is  very 
intense.  It  is  possible  that  the  apparent  difference  between 
taste  and  smell  and  the  other  sensations,  in  this  respect, 
may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  in  them  the  end  organ  seems  to 
have  a  chemical  function,  while  the  other  end  organs  are 
largely  mechanical.     But  it  is  enough  here  to  point  out  the 

^  Cf .  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chaps,  v.  xi 


GENERAL   CONDITIONS  OF  PAIN.  227 

fact  tliat  some  tastes  and  odors  are  always  disagreeable, 
however  slight  the  stimulation  be,  and  that  otliers  seem  to 
be  always  pleasurable,  however  intense  the  stimulation. 
Bitter  tastes,  for  example,  are  always  normally  disagree- 
able, and  sweet  tastes  normally  agreeable. 

The  fact  of  too  much  stimulation  may  also  take  the  form 
of  too  long  an  application  of  it  in  duration.  The  organism 
becomes  exhausted  and  pain  results.  And  a  third  case  is 
that  in  which  the  stimulation  is  too  extended  in  its  effects. 
For  example,  a  number  of  pin  points  drawn  over  the  skin 
give  pain  w^hen  one  of  them  would  not.  The  eye  can 
accommodate  a  small  point  of  light  of  a  degree  of  bright- 
ness which  would  be  painful  from  a  large  surface. 

2.  Inflammation.  The  same  painful  effects  follow  ordi- 
nary degrees  of  stimulation  when  an  organ  is  in  an  in- 
flamed condition.  Irritation  is  painful  when  the  skin,  for 
example,  is  stretched  or  distended.  In  diseased  condition 
of  the  eye  the  slightest  degree  of  light  may  be  painful. 

The  same  is  true  also  of  the  nerves  themselves.  Inflam- 
mation may  extend  to  the  nervous  tissue  ;  it  is  then  sensi- 
tive to  slight  degrees  of  stimulation,  and  the  reaction  is 
painful.  This  painful  tone  is  present  often  under  intensi- 
ties of  stimulation  to  which  the  nerve  is  not  ordinarily  sen- 
sitive. The  general  fact  of  this  paragraph  is  expressed  by 
saying  that  a  condition  of  hyperaesthesia  extends  also  to 
the  p.iinful  element  in  sensibility.  It  may  also  be  added 
that  the  opposite  is  not  always  true,  but  may  be  :  namely, 
that  sensuous  anaesthesia  extends  to  the  painful  element  in 
sensibility.  In  other  words,  tactile  or  muscular  anaesthesia 
is  not  always  accompanied  by  analgesia. 

3.  Summation  of  Stimuli.  A  painful  reaction  may  be 
brought  about  by  the  summation  of  stimuli  themselves  not 
painful.  Several  electric  sparks  in  succession  are  painful, 
where  one  is  not.  This  is  probably  only  a  further  appli- 
cation of  the  fact  that  high  intensities  are  painful.  It  is 
given  a  separate  place,  however,  since  here  the  high  i\u 


228  PLEASURE  AND  PAIK 

tensity  does  not  become  so  until  it  reaches  the  center,  while 
in  cases  of  intense  stimulation  the  intensity  is  such  at  the 
point  of  application  on  the  periphery. 

4.  Ajypetites  or  Imjndses  when  denied  give  rise  to  pains 
of  want.  Such  pains  are  usually  periodical,  and  indicate  a 
lack  injurious  to  the  organism. 

Less  General  Conditions.  Besides  the  above,  several 
more  special  conditions  bring  about  a  painful  reaction  in 
some  one  or  more  of  the  various  divisions  of  feelinor-.     Ex- 

o 

posure  to  air  is  a  cause  of  pain  to  tissue  normally  protected 
by  the  skin  ;  disuse,  or  too  slight  stimulation,  occasions  pain 
in  the  more  complex  of  tlie  special  senses,  as  sight  ;  lack  of 
accommodation  of  the  organ  to  its  stimulus  has  sometimes 
disagreeable  tone,  which  is  exaggerated  when  the  stimu- 
lation is  intense.  The  tone  of  the  organic  feelings  seems 
to  arise  from  any  obstruction  of  the  organic  functions, 
such  as  laceration,  cramp,  repletion,  etc.  Intermittency  of 
stimulation  is  also  a  frequent  cause  of  pain,  probably  from 
the  failure  of  the  organ  to  accommodate  to  the  broken 
stimulus. 

Empirical  Pacts  concerning  Pain.  There  are,  in  addi- 
tion, certain  facts  brought  out  by  physiologists  w^hich 
throw  light  upon  pleasure  and  pain.  First  may  be  men- 
tioned the  interniittence  of  pain :  the  greater  or  less 
intensity  of  painful  feelings  at  successive  moments,  the 
stimulus  remaining  constant.  It  is  plainl}^  seen  in  electrical 
stimulation — a  clear  rhythm,  or  rise  and  fall,  of  the  painful 
tone.  A  headache  usually  proceeds  by  throbs,  a  toothache 
by  jumps,  and  a  felon  on  the  finger  changes  its  feeling 
from  a  dull  ache  to  a  paroxysm  of  overpowering  severity. 
That  it  is  due  to  nervous  causes,  and  indicates  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  central  processes,  is  claimed  from  such  phenomena 
In  intermittent  fever ;  but  in  some  cases  it  evidently  de- 
pends upon  the  rliythra  of  the  vascular  system,  the  dis- 
tention and  reaction  of  the  blood  vessels. 

Another  kind  of  intermittence  is  brought  about  b^  the 


k 


EMPmiCAL  FACTS  COXGERXIXG  PAIX.  220 

coming  and  going  of  the  attention.  The  effect  of  tlie  at- 
tention in  increasing  the  intensity  of  affective  states  is 
familiar  ;  hence  we  would  expect  that  the  concentration 
and  withdrawal  of  the  attention  w'ould  have  a  marked  in- 
fluence upon  the  rise  and  fall  of  pain.  Further,  w^e  know 
that  the  attention,  even  when  concentrated  as  steadily  as 
possible,  is  rhythmical ;  so  here  appears  a  further  possible 
explanation  of  the  intermittence  spoken  of. 

Another  interesting  fact  of  painful  feeling  is  what  is 
called  its  irradiation  or  diffusion.  The  locality  of  a  painful 
stimulus  is  less  circumscribed  as  the  stimulation  becomes 
intense.  Besides  the  intensity,  or  quantity,  this  feeling 
becomes  massive  or  spread  out.  It  is  probably  due  to  a 
reial  spreading  of  the  cause  of  the  painful  feeling  over  a 
greater  area,  both  on  the  periphery  and  in  the  central  seat. 

Again,  we  may  note  a  delay  in  the  conscious  awareness 
of  pain  compared  with  the  appearance  of  the  sensation 
with  which  it  seems  to  be  connected.  Even  w^hen  the 
stimulation  is  a  very  strong  one,  the  sensation  is  clear  in 
consciousness  before  any  pain  is  felt.  A  blow,  for  example, 
is  felt  as  contact  or  pressure  a  fraction  of  a  second  before 
we  begin  to  suffer  from  it  ;  a  burn  is  particularly  long  in 
reporting  itself  as  pain.  This  delay  may  be  measured  by 
comparing  the  reaction  time  of  a  painful  stimulus — say  the 
decided  prick  of  a  pin — with  that  of  a  simple  contact  sensa- 
tion at  the  same  point  on  the  skin.  It  is  probably  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  full  force  of  the  pain-stimulus  is  not  reported 
at  once,  but  that  the  organ  accommodates  itself  to  it  by  a 
series  of  partial  transmissions.  These  transmissions  are 
summated  at  the  center,  and  the  result  is  a  sufticiently 
intense  central  stimulus  to  occasion  a  painful  reaction. 

Further,  the  duration,  or  lasting  quality,  of  a  painful 
state  of  sensibilit}^  is  remarkable.  Pains  do  not  pass  away, 
as  painless  sensations  do,  when  the  stimulation  ceases.  The 
recovery  of  the  organism  is  very  slow.  What  is  called  an 
after-image  of  some  sensations  seems  here  to  be  more  truly 


230  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

an  after-/ac^.  It  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
intenser  degree  of  stimulation  necessary  to  pain  gives  more 
decided  and  lasting  character  to  the  nervous  change  it 
works  than  feeble  stimuli  do.  This  is  supported  b^^  the 
observation  that  pains  are  more  distinctly  and  easily  reviv- 
able  than  other  affective  experiences.  A  painful  experi- 
ence seems  to  hover  constantly  around  us,  and  thrust  its 
unwelcome  presence  into  our  gayest  hours.  When  we 
remember  that  a  revived  image  occupies  the  seat  of  the 
original  experience,  we  only  have  to  assume  a  more  lasting 
effect  to  have  resulted  from  a  painful  sensation,  to  account 
for  its  more  easy  reproduction. 

Finally,  pain  lowers  the  temperature  of  the  painful  region. 

Conditions  of  Analgesia.  Insensibility  to  pain  under 
conditions  usually  painful  may  be  brought  about  by  various 
agencies.  Cold  of  very  great  intensity  has  this  effect,  pain 
becoming  very  acute  and  then  subsiding  altogether,  as  the 
temperature  is  lowered.  The  withdrawal  of  blood  from  an 
organ  makes  it  insensible  to  pain.  Lowered  sensitiveness 
to  pain,  however,  is  likely  to  be  preceded  by  exalted 
sensitiveness,  as  in  the  evident  case  of  cold.  Apparent 
absence  of  pain  is  experienced  when  the  intensity  of  a 
painful  stimulus  is  suddenly  lowered,  even  though  the 
second  intensit}^  would  be  painful  under  other  circum- 
stances. 

Pain  as  Peeling  and  as  Tone.  The  conditions  of  pain 
now  pointed  out  are  conditions  in  the  operation  of  the 
various  modes  of  sensibility,  general  or  special  ;  that  is,  we 
have  been  observing  pain  as  tone.  The  important  question 
arises :  Is  pain  always  thus  dependent  on  a  definite  form  of 
sensibility,  or  is  it  itself,  as  a  form  of  sensibility,  ever  found 
independent  of  its  presence  as  tone  ?  There  are  some  facts 
which  would  indicate  that  pain  has  a  functional  independ- 
ence, whatever  we  may  say  as  to  its  anatomical  ^  independ- 

'  /.  e.,  whether  there  are  special  nerve  fibers  which  conduct  pain,  a 
point  on  which  experimental  results  are  conflicting. 


PHYSICAL   COXDITIOXS  OF  PLEASURE.  231 

ence.  For  instance,  pain  may  be  destroyed  without 
impairing  any  of  the  other  sensibilities,  as  in  analgesia 
brought  on  by  chloroform  ;  and  in  general,  under  the 
influence  of  anaesthetics,  pain  and  memory  disappear  first 
and  together.  On  the  other  hand,  other  sensations  may 
be  destroyed  while  the  painful  quality  of  their  stimuli 
remains.  Thus,  under  pressure,  sensations  of  touch, 
temperature,  and  muscular  movement  may  be  destroyed 
while  pain  remains.  So,  also,  under  loss  of  blood  in  a 
member,  sensations  of  touch  disappear  before  pain,  and 
both  before  temperature,  electric  feelings,  etc.  In  other 
words,  the  various  elements  of  common  sensuous  feeling 
may  be  paralyzed  separately.  It  does  not  follow,  from 
this,  further,  as  we  will  see,  that  when  the  physical  contri- 
butions of  pain  are  removed  consciousness  has  been  robbed 
of  its  hedonic  quality  altogether. 

Physical  Conditions  of  Pleasure.  It  is  not  as  easy  to 
point  out  the  physical  conditions  of  pleasure  ;  but  in  gen- 
eral we  find  them  opposed  to  those  already  indicated  as 
carrying  painful  tone. 

1.  Moderate  Stimulation  is  pleasurable.  This  is  readily 
seen  in  the  exercise  of  the  special  sense  functions  ;  the  eye 
is  pleased  with  mild  colors,  and  the  ear  with  pure  tones. 
Gentle  touch,  quiet  muscular  reaction,  moderate  tastes,  are 
usually  agreeable.  And  it  is  true  of  moderate  durations 
and  areas  of  stimulation,  as  well  as  of  moderate  intensities. 

There  are  striking  exceptions,  however,  to  this  rule.  A 
great  many  sensations  are  always  painful ;  when  not  giving 
a  painful  reaction,  the  organs  involved  do  not  affect  con- 
sciousness at  all.  So  the  organic  feelings.  Certain  tastes 
and  odors,  also,  are  always  disagreeable.  Further,  the 
condition  of  neutrality  seems  very  nearly  reached  in  the 
normal  exercise  of  some  of  the  sense  functions,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, sight  and  hearing. 

2.  Pleasure  arises  from  the  Adjustment  of  an  Organ  to 
its  Stimulus.     Muscular  sensations  are  pleasurable  within 


232  PLEASURE  AND  PAIK. 

the  range  of  easy  effort.  Stimuli  of  longer  duration,  winch 
give  time  for  the  full  adjustment  of  the  organ,  pass  from 
the  painful  to  the  pleasurable.  Feelings  for  which  we 
are  ready  by  anticipation  are  enjoyable.  Yet  this  is  also 
subject  to  the  qualification  that  perfect  adjustment  seems 
in  many  cases  (eye  and  ear)  to  have  no  feeling  accompani- 
ments whatever,  either  of  pleasure  or  pain. 

3.  Activity  is  enjoyable.  By  this  is  meant  function 
within  the  limits  set  by  the  two  conditions  already  men- 
tioned. If  activity  is  pleasurable,  it  is  tlie  moderate 
activity  of  a  well-adjusted  organ.  Yet  there  seem  to  be 
more  massive  organic  conditions  of  activity  which  are 
pleasurable,  even  when  such  a  general  function  involves 
some  particular  pain.  The  football-player  enjoys  his  sport, 
even  though  he  is  never  free  from  the  pain  of  bruises 
or  scratches.  In  such  cases,  the  vigor  and  energy  of  the 
larger  organs  brought  into  play  seem  to  overpower  the 
protests  of  the  smaller,  and  silence  their  complaints.  A 
pain  which  would  make  one  wretched  if  suffered  in  passive 
silence  is  forgotten  altogether  in  the  pleasure  of  diligent 
employment.  This  larger  activity,  however,  which  brings 
pleasure,  must  itself  conform  to  the  conditions  of  modera- 
tion and  adjustment. 

Moreover,  these  pleasures  of  activity,  such  as  pleasures 
of  the  chase,  of  sports,  of  general  vigor,  are  more  positive 
apparently  than  an}^  other  physical  pleasures.  The  claim 
already  noticed,  that  in  the  absence  of  pain  many  states  are 
not  really  pleasurable,  but  merely  neutral  as  regards  tone, 
does  not  seem  to  be  well  taken  in  this  case.  A  condition 
of  fresh  muscular  vigor  seems  to  intrude  itself  into  con- 
sciousness of  its  own  force,  and  we  become  aware  of  pleasant 
occupation  with  no  evident  reference  to  the  corresponding 
state  of  pain.  Indeed,  the  opposite  pleasures  which  result 
from  a  cessation  of  muscular  pain — the  so-called  pleasuies 
of  rest — are  something  quite  distinct  from  these  pleasures 
of  activity. 


CONCEPTION  OF  PLEASTTRE  AND  PAIN.        SSa 

Under  this  head,  also,  as  including  any  function,  and 
not  simply  muscular  activity,  the  pleasures  arising  from 
the  gratification  of  the  organic  appetites  and  instincts  ap- 
pear to  fall.  They  are  functions  of  periodical  exercise,  and 
their  normal  working  involves  periodical  stimulation. 
They  seem  to  involve  pleasure  over  and  above  the  prompt- 
ing of  painful  appetite  ;  though  this  again  is  in  dispute. 
Yet  it  could  hardly  be  said  that  all  the  pleasures  of  the 
table  are  due  to  the  cessation  of  the  pangs  of  hunger. 

Relativity  of  Sensuous  Pleasure  and  Pain.  The 
fact  referred  to  above,  that  many  physical  pleasures  are 
only  relief  from  preceding  states  of  pain,  finds  place  with 
other  similar  phenomena,  under  the  law  of  relativity. 
First,  we  may  say  that  the  existence  of  either  state  may 
under  certain  circumstances  arise  from  the  cessation  of  the 
other.  Cases  of  seeming  pleasure,  which  is  explained  as 
absence  of  pain,  have  already  been  mentioned.  Similarly, 
tlie  cessation  of  an  active  pleasure  may  give  us  temporary 
pain  and  be  the  only  cause  of  it.  An  element  of  higher 
emotion,  however,  generally  enters  in  this  case.  Again, 
the  intensity  of  pain  or  pleasure  depends  largely  upon  its 
contrast  with  a  preceding  state.  After  an  unusual  trip  to 
the  country,  the  painful  toil  of  city  life  is  all  the  harder  to 
bear  ;  so,  after  feasting  the  eyes  upon  a  dish  of  luscious 
fruit,  the  beggar's  plate  of  herbs  is  all  the  more  unpalatable. 
So,  also,  the  associations  involved  often  convert  pleasure 
into  pain,  and  the  contrary.  A  little  clever  deceit  will 
make  us  enjoy  a  dish  which  before  we  found  unpleasant. 

§  2.  Resulting  Conception  of  Sensuous  Pleasure 
AND  Pain. 

From  the  foregoing  brief  description  of  the  conditions 
under  which  sensuous  tone  arises,  we  may  put  all  such 
feelings  under  two  larger  physical  categories.  A  careful 
examination  of  these  conditions  will  show  that  all  pleasures 
and  pains  involve  either  a  state  of  change  in  the  organic 


234  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN 

tissue,  in  the  way  of  integration  or  disintegration^  or  a 
change  in  the  relation  of  the  organism  to  its  environment, 
in  tlie  way  of  adjustment  or  misadjustment.  These  two 
aspects  of  the  case  may  be  considered  separately. 

Pleasure  and  Pain  as  resulting  from  Integration 
and  Disintegration.  Considering  pain  from  the  side  of 
the  organism,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  all  the  pains  of  the  bod}' 
are  due  to  disintegration  of  tissue,  except  those  cases  in 
which  any  amount  of  stimulation  seems  to  result  in  un- 
pleasant tone,  such  as  tastes  always  unpleasant.  Tliat  is, 
very  intense  stimuli  are  known  to  injure,  tear,  wound  the 
organ  stimulated  ;  stimuli  summated  to  a  painful  degree 
have  the  same  effects.  The  cases  of  stimuli  which  are 
always  painful  may  be  brought  under  the  same  category,  if 
we  find  it  possible  to  review  the  response  itself  as  a  sign  ot 
such  disintegration  ;  a  position  which  the  chemistry  of 
tastes  and  smells  at  least  does  not  dispute.  Bitter  tastes, 
for  example,  we  may  well  consider  as  resulting  from  a 
stimulus  damaging  to  the  taste  apparatus  ;  so  with  strong 
acids. 

Yet  we  cannot  say  that  all  disintegration  is  painful,  for 
the  moderate  stimulation  which  usually  gives  pleasure  is 
also  moderate  disintegration.  Any  stimulation  whatever 
involves  expenditure  ;  such  expenditure  means  the  libera- 
tion of  energy  before  stored  up,  and  this  using  up  of 
energy  is  work  done  in  the  tissues.  Hence  w^e  are  obliged 
to  say  that  under  some  conditions,  at  least,  disintegration 
is  pleasurable  ;  so  the  pleasure  of  exercise. 

On  the  other  hand,  integration  is  sometimes  pleasurable, 
as  in  the  case  of  pleasures  of  rest  ;  but  integration  is  some- 
times painful,  as  in  the  pains  of  inactivity  and  disuse. 
What,  then,  shall  we  say  ? 

The  state  of  the  case  seems  to  be  about  this  :  the  life 
process  is  a  process  both  of  integration  and  of  disintegra- 
tion ;  the  organism  is  built  up,  but  is  built  up  by  previous 
tearing  down.     Expenditure  is  the  law  of  acquisition  ;  con- 


ADJUSTMENTS  AND  MISADJUSTMENTS.  235 

sequently  disintegration  which  ministers  to  health  and 
development  is  pleasurable,  as  integration  also  is.  On  the 
otlier  hand,  disintegration  may  overstep  the  legitimate 
expenditure  of  the  life  process,  and  become  painful ;  and 
integration  may  also  be  painful,  because  too  continuous  to 
permit  the  proper  expenditure  demanded  for  the  life 
process. 

If,  now,  we  consider  pleasure  and  the  absence  of  pain  the 
accompaniments  of  the  normal  life  process,  and  pain  the 
accompaniment  of  any  organic  event  which  interferes  with 
tlie  life  process  or  checks  it,  we  seem  to  have  a  consistent 
conception  ;  it  explains  the  facts,  as  far  as  integration  and 
disintegration  are  concerned. 

Pleasure  and  Pain  resulting  from  Adjustments  and 
Misadjustments.  It  has  alread}^  been  made  evident  that 
integration  as  an  organic  process  would  not  include  all  the 
phenomena  of  pleasant  or  unpleasant  tone.  A  variety  of 
cases  point  to  the  relative  adjustment  of  the  organism  to 
its  stimulating  environment  as  a  principle  of  perhaps  equal 
importance.  Wherever  such  misadjustment  is  so  over- 
powering as  to  affect  the  tissue  of  the  organ  in  question, 
the  resulting  pain  comes  clearly  under  the  principle  of  dis- 
integration ;  but  when  such  positive  effects  are  not  clearly 
present,  the  fact  of  misadjustment  is  yet  sufficient  to  cause 
pain.  Such  is  the  disagreeable  quality  of  musical  discords, 
glaring  colors,  unaccustomed  muscular  movements,  etc. 

Wlierever,  therefore,  there  is  conscious  feeling  at  all 
attaching  to  the  adjustment  of  a  sense  organ,  we  may  ^^y 
that  adjustment  is  pleasurable  and  misadjustment  painful  ; 
a  conclusion  we  would  expect  from  our  study  of  the 
development  of  the  nervous  system. 

General  Conclusion  on  Sensuous  Pleasure  and  Pain. 
It  now  becomes  evident  that  in  tlie  life  process  we  have 
the  raison  d^etre  of  pleasure  and  pain.  But  by  life  process 
we  must  be  careful  to  include  life  development  as  well  as 
simple  life.     The  simple  present  life  of  an  organism  as  con- 


236  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

stant  function  is  more  than  covered  by  the  facts  as  we  have 
observed  them  ;  pleasure  and  pain  have  a  prospective 
future  reference  as  well — reference  to  a  fuller  development 
and  potential  growth.  Accordingly,  sensuous  pleasure 
may  be  defined  as  the  conscious  effect  of  that  which  makes 
for  the  continuance  of  the  bodily  life  or  its  advancement  y' 
and  sensuous  pain,  the  conscious  effect  of  that  which  makes 
for  the  decline  of  the  bodily  life  or  its  limitation. 

§  3.  Primary  Conditions  op  Ideal  Tone. 

1.  So7ne  degree  of  ideal  change.  As  physical  pain  arises 
from  physical  function,  so  higher  pain  comes  with  apper- 
ception considered  as  ideal  function.  And  in  general,  the 
degree  of  ideal  function,  measured  in  terms  of  the  emo- 
tional excitement  to  which  it  gives  rise,  indicates  also  the 
degree  of  pleasure  or  pain.  Ideal  change,  the  rearrange- 
ment of  elements  in  the  apperceptive  content  of  conscious- 
ness, is  accordingly  the  general  condition  of  particular  ideal 
tone. 

We  may  accordingly  at  once  make  use  of  the  conception 
of  sensuous  tone  already  arrived  at,  substituting  for  the 
physical  the  apperceptive  function,  and  for  the  adjustment 
of  end  organs,  that  of  attention  ;  and  expect  to  find  an  ad- 
equate conception  of  ideal  pleasure  and  pain.  Accordingly 
we  reach  a  second  condition. 

2.  The  degree  and  duration  of  attention :  determining 
ideal  tone  as  pleasure  or  as  pain.  Excessive  concentration 
of  the  attention  is  painful ;  yet  the  pain  is  directly  merged 
in  the  pain  involved  in  the  adjustment  of  the  bodily  organ. 
Prolonged  attention  becomes  painful  by  the  law  of  fatigue. 
On  the  other  hand,  moderate  concentration  and  duration 
of  attention  are  pleasurable. 

3.  The  degree  of  adjustment  or  misadjustment  of  the  at- 
tention. The  conditions  which  involve  distraction,  or  draw- 
ing apart,  or  doing  violence  to  the  attention,  are  painful  ; 
those  giving  feelings  of  ease,  flow,  variety,  measured  con- 


SECONDARY  CONDITIONS  OF  IDEAL   TONE.      237 

centration,  etc.,  are  pleasurable.  It  is  probable  that  the 
most  pleasurable  adjustment  is  that  of  finest  and  most  exact 
discrimination.  Ward  formulates  tliis  and  the  preceding 
condition  as  follows  :  there  is  pleasure  "  in  proportion  as 
the  maximum  of  attention  is  effectively  exercised." 

§  4.    Secondary  Conditions  of  Ideal  Tone. 

The  determinations  already  reached  have  evident  appli- 
cation to  those  states  of  feeling  which  arise  around  acts  of 
the  attention  regardless  of  the  nature  of  the  object  to  which 
the  attention  is  directed.  Tiiere  are  other  emotional  states, 
however,  which  are  pronounced  in  their  contribution  to 
the  tone  of  consciousness.  The  great  expressive  emotions 
(fear,  love,  anger),  the  sympathetic,  the  ethical,  and 
aesthetic  are  all  at  times  controlling  agents  of  pleasure  or 
pain.  The  question  at  once  arises  :  Is  it  possible  to  bring 
them  under  the  formulas  already  enunciated  ?  This  ques- 
tion awaits  an  answer  from  the  consideration  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  objects  come  to  be  pleasure  or  pain 
giving. 

1.  Objects  of  perception  excite  pleasure  or  pain  only  as 
they  have  some  present  or  future  relation  to  our  physical 
well-  or  ill-being.  Perception,  as  has  been  seen,  is  a  sum- 
ming up  of  sensations,  in  the  form  of  synthesis.  Kow  an 
object  perceived  gives  us  certain  sensations  only  ;  but 
it  suggests  others  which  belong  to  the  synthesis,  and  we 
are  thus  able  to  anticipate  them.  The  sight  of  falling  rain 
prophesies  to  me  the  unpleasantness  of  being  wet ;  the 
sight  of  a  lion,  the  pain  of  being  eaten.  The  tone  of  per- 
ception, therefore,  as  far  as  it  refers  to  the  object,  is 
intrinsically  the  prophecy  of  the  tone  of  the  sensations  it 
includes  and  suggests. 

To  illustrate  :  a  child  first  sees  a  fire  (yellow  light  sensa- 
tion), grasps  it  (touch  sensation),  feels  pain  (sensuous  tone, 
due  to  damage  to  the  life  process).  Again  he  sees  the  fire 
(perception,  carrying  in  it  touch  and  pain  memories)  anci 


238  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

has  fear,  which  is  of  painful  tone.  The  point  advanced  is 
that  this  latter  tone,  of  fear,  also  has  reference  to  the  life 
process.  It  is  nature's  way  of  utilizing  simpler  pain  ex- 
periences, just  as  perception  is  her  way  of  utilizing  sensa- 
tional experiences. 

2.  Rejyresentations  of  objects  excite  pleasure  and  imin 
only  as  the  objects  themselves  excite  them.  This  covers  the 
whole  field  of  emotions  which  accompany  reproduction — 
memory,  passive  imagination,  illusions,  etc.  The  emotions 
which  such  representations  excite  have  qualitative  coloring 
(expectation,  dread,  etc.),  but  their  tone  is  again  due,  as 
the  tone  of  perception  is,  to  the  anticipation  of  advantage 
or  damage  from  the  pictured  object. 

3.  The  tone  of  the  emotions  which  accompany  conception 
and  thought  has  reference  both  (1)  to  physical  and  (2)  to 
intellectual  well-  or  ill-being. 

(1)  The  reference  of  conception  and  thought  to  physical 
pleasure  and  pain  is  clear  in  some  cases.  My  conception 
of  the  work  of  dentists,  for  example,  has  a  painful  tone 
which  is  as  clearljr  a  warning  of  phj^sical  damage  as  the 
perception  of  my  particular  dentist  is.  So,  also,  the  science 
of  dentistry,  the  logical  framework  of  the  art,  considered 
merely  as  a  branch  of  instruction,  cannot  be  rid  of  its 
physical  suggestiveness.  The  medical  student  grows  faint 
when  he  hears  his  first  lecture  on  blood-letting.  Con- 
sequently, a  positive  part  of  the  tone  of  higher  aesthetic, 
ethical,  and  logical  emotion  illustrates  the  law  of  physical 
well-being. 

In  the  case  of  aesthetic  emotion,  the  element  contributed 
by  association  is  largely  of  this  sensational  character. 
Apart  from  the  beauty  of  the  purel}^  sensuous  in  music,  its 
associations  are  largely  sensuous.  A  face  often  becomes 
handsome  from  association  at  the  table,  the  theater,  on  tlie 
promenade,  and  the  pleasure  we  take  in  it  is  a  reverberation 
of  these  associated  pleasures  of  sense. 

(2)  So  far,  it  is  clear,  we  may  carry  a  naturalistic  view 


SECONDARY  CONDITIONS  OF  IDEAL  TONE.     239 

of  pleasure  and  pain,  conceding  that,  whatever  purpose 
they  may  serve  beside,  all  normal  pleasures  point  to  healthy, 
and  all  normal  pains  to  unhealthy,  physical  functions. 
Does  this  exhaust  the  range  of  ideal  tone  ?  Further  consid- 
eration convinces  us  that  it  does  not.  There  are  emotions 
whose  tone  seems  to  violate  the  law  of  physical  well-being. 

We  would  expect,  if  consciousness  is  a  s^^nthetic  thing, 
and  if  its  synthesis  becomes  explicit  in  wliat  \ve  call 
apperception  or  thought,  that  such  a  new  thing  in  nature 
would  have  its  own  principle  of  development.  And  we 
would  expect,  further,  that  its  development  would  be  a 
matter  of  conscious  adaptation  to  its  conditions  of  thinking 
and  willing.  The  most  natural  view  of  ideal  pleasure  and 
pain,  therefore,  is  to  consider  it  an  index  of  healthy  or 
unhealthy  mental  function.  As  physical  pleasures,  at  first 
ministering  blindly  to  the  welfare  of  the  organism,  grow 
to  attach  to  objects  in  relation  to  the  organism  ;  so  ideal 
pleasures,  while  attaching  still  to  attention  as  a  function, 
yet  come  to  attach  to  its  objects  as  well.  On  this  view, 
the  tone  of  many  emotions  reflects  the  state  of  the  mental 
functions  primarily. 

This  view  is  supported  by  abundant  evidence.  The 
pleasures  of  intellectual  pursuit  lead  their  devotees  to  neg- 
lect the  body  and  even  to  continue  this  course  in  the  face 
of  acute  physical  pain.  Esthetic  delight  is  so  independent 
of  selfish  motives  that  admiration  is  often  called  out  by 
what  is  destructive  and  terrifying.  Ethical  emotion, 
wdth  the  happiness  it  always  brings,  may  triumph  over 
physical  impulse,  when  they  come  into  conflict.  Conse- 
quently, we  may  hold  that  there  is  an  element  of  hedonic 
coloring  arising  with  the  changes  >vhich  occur  in  the  con- 
tent of  consciousness.  And  we  are  led  to  define  ideal 
pleasure  as  the  conscious  effect  of  that  which  makes  for  the 
conti)iua)ice  of  the  apperceptive  life  or  its  advancement  / 
and  ideal  pain,  the  conscious  effect  of  that  lohich  makes  for 
the  decline  of  the  apperceptive  life  or  its  limitation. 


240  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

§  5.  Final  Conclusion  of  Pleasuee  and  Pain. 

Summing  up  all  that  has  been  said  of  pleasure  and  pain, 
both  sensuous  and  ideal,  we  may  conclude  that/;?easwre  a7id 
pain  are  the  affective  coloring,  respectively,  ichich  conscious- 
?iess  takes  on  in  conditions  of  present  or  prospective  well-  or 
ill-heing. 

And  we  have  found  three  classes  of  conditions  upon 
which  pleasure  and  pain  depend  :  first,  physical  conditions, 
giving  sensuous  tone  ;  second,  ideal  conditions,  giving  rise 
to  the  tone  of  states  of  attention  ;  third,  a  union  of  physi- 
cal and  ideal  conditions,  giving  rise  to  the  tone  of  the 
higher  emotions. 

Complexity  of  Tone  States.  It  is  now  clear  that  the 
hedonic  coloring  of  consciousness,  at  any  time,  is  not  a 
simple  thing.  Pleasure  or  pain  is  reported  from  the 
body  and  from  the  mind,  from  many  organs  of  the  body  at 
once,  and  from  many  mental  "  moments  "  at  once.  Hope 
and  fear  may  be  struggling  within,  the  will  may  be  pain- 
fully paralyzed,  attention  distracted,  and  with  it  all,  a  beat- 
ing sun  may  annoy,  an  aching  tooth  distress,  and  all  go  to 
make  up  a  complex  condition  of  tone.  So  mental  and 
physical  conditions  may  combine  to  produce  pleasure  ;  and 
all  possible  combinations  may,  and  do,  arise  in  kaleidoscopic 
order. 

The  elements,  however,  of  this  complex  effect  may  be 
generally  distinguished  in  consciousness.  They  do  not 
coalesce  except  in  their  general  tendency  to  produce  emo- 
tional excitement,  which  has  its  own  tone.  If  the  two 
hands  be  held  under  two  streams  of  water,  very  hot  and 
pleasantly  cool,  respectively,  the  two  hedonic  effects  may 
be  clearly  distinguished  from  each  other.  So  the  pain  of 
suspense  arises  from  the  excitement  of  alternating  hope 
and  dread,  and  persists  apart  from  the  pleasure  and  pain  of 
those  emotions  themselves  as  they  struggle  in  conscioua- 
ness. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

NATURE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF  IDEAL  FEELING. 

Ideal  vs.  Sensuous  Feeling.  Is  there  an  inner,  or  feel- 
ing, side  to  the  world  of  ideas  ?  Are  we  sensible  of  degrees 
of  feeling  in  the  phases  of  the  apperceptive  process?  The 
simple  answer  of  consciousness  is,  -yes  ;  and  there  is  opened 
before  us  the  great  class  of  feelings  called  ideal.  Ideal 
feelings,  therefore,  are  the  modificatlGns  of  sensibility  which 
accompany  the  exercise  of  the  apperceptive  function. 

Ideal  feeling  is  then,  as  Hodgson  says,  a  new  kind  of 
sensibility  accompanying  a  new  kind  of  nervous  process. 
Tiie  apperceptive  function  has  its  organic  basis  in  some  kind 
of  a  brain  process  which  represents  the  combining  of 
special  centers  in  the  hemispheres  and  the  dynamic  union 
of  their  energies.  If  the  function  performed  by  the  at- 
tention is  new,  so  also  are  the  modes  of  mental  excitement 
wliicli  attacli  to  its  different  phases. 

Ideal  Feelings  as  Special  and  Common.  The  analogy 
of  sensuous  feeling  serves  us  to  indicate  another  distinction. 
Besides  certain  special  feelings — sensations — which  are 
brought  about  by  the  exercise  of  particular  organic  func- 
tions, we  found  a  great  fund  of  common  sensibility — 
organic  feeling — which  seemed  to  belong  to  the  living 
being  as  an  organism.  The  motor  feelings  were  found 
everywhere — the  muscles  being  the  most  general  outlet 
for  the  nervous  process  which  brings  feeling  about.  So 
upon  an  examination  of  the  "  feelings  of  ideas,"  we  are  able 
to  make  an  analogous  distinction.  On  the  one  side  there 
are  the  special  kinds  of  mental  excitement,  which  are  de- 
veloped in  connection  with  particular  synthetic  processes : 
memory  yields  regret,  remorse,  pride  ;  imagination  throws 

241 


242     NATURE  AND  DIVISIONS  OF  IDEAL  FEELING. 

us  into  expectation,  hope,  fear,  love.  Such  states  of 
sensibility  we  may  call  emotions.  They  are  the  special 
forms  of  ideal  feeling  just  as  sensations  are  special  forms 
of  sensuous  feeling.  But  they  do  not  exhaust  the  subjec- 
tive element  of  this  stage  of  consciousness.  There  is  an 
undertone  of  feeling,  a  basis  of  sensibility,  which  is  not 
disturbed  during  the  mutations  of  the  emotional  life — 
feelings  upon  which  all  the  emotions  depend,  feelings  due 
to  the  fact  of  mental  sjmthesis  itself  ;  such  are  the  feeling 
of  reality,  feeling  of  Interest,  etc.  These  we  may  call 
common  ideal  feelings.  Further,  all  ideal  sensibility  would 
be  expected  to  have  tone,  as  pleasurable  or  painful.  It 
will  be  profitable,  accordingly,  to  turn  attention  to  common 
ideal  feeing,  and  to  special  ideal  feelings  or  emotions  ;  ideal 
pleasure  and  pain  having  already  been  considered. 


COMMON  IDEAL  FEELIXG. 
CHAPTER  XIX. 

INTEREST,  REALITY,  AND  BELIEF.' 

General  Character  of  Common  Ideal  Feeling.     The  f  ol- 

lowing  aspects  of  feeling  coniiiioii  to  the  intellectual  proc- 
esses may  be  profitably  considered  :  interest,  reality -feeling^ 
belief. '' 

§  1.  Interest. 

A  general  characterization  of  interest  as  a  psychological 
state  is  best  reached  when  we  ask  why  it  is  that  we  act 
voluntarily  in  this  way  or  that.  The  answer  must  invari- 
ably be,  because  we  are  interested  in  this  course  of  action 
or  that.  As  will  appear  later,  the  most  important  thing 
about  interest  is  its  quality  as  stimulating  the  will.  A 
thing  is  interesting  to  me  when,  for  any  reason,  it  appeals 
to  my  attention — when  it  is  worth  looking  at — when  it  is 
so  related  to  me  that  I  am  led  to  investigate  it  ;  and  the 
feeling  of  interest  is  this  need  of  looking,  investigating, 
finding  out  about.  A  child  is  said  to  show  no  interest 
when  he  is  entirely  satisfied  with  his  toy  and  leaves  it. 

Physiological  Basis  of  Interest  and  IndiflTerence. 
On  an  earlier  page,  when  gathering  up  our  conception  of 
nervous  function,  we  found  reason  to  recognize  two  great 
laws,  i.  e.,  the  laws  of  habit  and   accommodation.     And 

^  Cf.  Wnidbook  of  Psycliology,  vol.  ii.  chap.  vii. 

2  The  feeling  of  cement  or  effort  would  naturally  suggest  itself  also 
liere  as  being  one  of  the  broadest  aspects  of  intellectual  feeling  ;  but 
it  comes  up  more  properly  under  the  detailed  treatment  of  AYill 
below.  The  feeling  of  seff  also  cannot  be  adequately  treated  here, 
since  it  is  so  closely  connected  with  the  voluntary  life ;  yet  as  a 
matter  of  classification  it  should  not  be  omitted  from  commou  ideal 
feeling. 


244  INTEREST,  REALITY,  AND  BELIEF. 

occasion  was  taken  to  say  of  habit,  that  "  psychologically 
it  means  loss  of  oversight,  diffusion  of  attention,  subsiding 
consciousness"  ;  and  of  accommodation,  that  "psychologi- 
cally it  means  reviving  consciousness,  concentration  of 
attention,  voluntary  control — the  mental  state  which  has 
its  most  general  expression  in  what  we  know  as  interest.'''' 
"  In  habit  and  interest  we  find  the  psychological  poles  cor- 
responding to  the  lowest  and  the  highest  in  the  activities 
of  the  nervous  system." 

Interest,  then,  is  the  most  general  awareness  of  the 
process  of  our  intellectual  life,  and  as  such  represents  the 
highest  and  most  unstable  form  of  nervous  integration. 
Wherever  there  is  the  nervous  basis  of  attention  and  will, 
there  is  sufficient  physical  reason  for  the  feeling  of  interest. 
And  wherever,  by  reason  of  fatigue  or  disease,  attention 
and  will  are  not  called  out,  the  pliysical  process  is  accom- 
panied by  the  feeling  of  indifference  ;  that  is,  there  is  then 
a  reversion  to  a  stratum  of  nervous  structure  and  function 
which  is  dominated  more  by  habit. 

Intellectual  Conditions  of  Interest.  The  general 
phvsiological  analogies  mentioned  above  lead  to  several 
presumptions  which  we  find  neatly  confirmed  by  the 
psychology  of  interest. 

1.  Any  reaction  of  consciousness  which  is  repeated  with- 
out variation  becomes  uninteresting  ;  the  nervous  process 
passes  from  the  stage  of  fresh  accommodation  to  the  stage 
of  habit  by  the  law  of  downward  growth. 

On  the  psychological  side  we  may  call  this  the  principle 
of  repetition,  and  say  that  intellectual  repetition  diminishes 
interest.  We  have  only  to  understand  a  thing  thoroughly 
to  lose  our  immediate  interest  in  it.  Very  few  novels  are 
worth  reading  a  second  time,  if  interest  is  the  measure  of 
worth.  It  is  hard  to  get  up  interest  in  the  departments  of 
study  which  deal  with  descriptive  details  and  statements 
of  fact,  and  present  no  new  openings  for  thouglit.  Tlie 
conversation  of  our  maiden  aunts,  detailing  the  illnesses 


DmcnnimATioK  on  exploration.        245 

anci  recoveries  of  our  early  cliildhood,  no  longer  arouses  our 
enthusiasm. 

2.  On  the  contrary,  new  relations  are  interesting  ;  the 
nervous  growth  is  "  upward,"  involving  higher  integra- 
tions. Illustrations  are  not  needed  for  anyone  who  has 
ever  reflected  on  the  passion  for  news,  the  course  of  rumor, 
and  the  delights  of  gossip  for  all  mankind.  This  may  be 
called  the  principle  of  7ioveltyj  and  we  may  say  that  the 
intellectually  iieio  is  interesting. 

3.  The  contradictory  of  the  feeling  of  interest  is  not  in- 
difference, but  ennui,  mental  fatigue,  boredom.  Indiffer- 
ence means  the  reign  of  nervous  habit,  the  draining  off  of 
energ}'^  in  an  accustomed  channel.  But  ennui  means  the 
distaste  that  arises  from  interest  in  avoiding.  It  is  a  pos- 
itive feeling  as  truly  as  is  fatigue. 

Interest  of  Discrimination  or  Exploration.  These  in- 
tellectual conditions  may  be  set  apart  as  contributing  to 
interest  of  a  particular  sort — the  interest  of  curiosity,  of 
exploration.  It  is  never  realized  in  its  purit}^,  because 
emotional  and  other  factors  mentioned  below  come  to 
modify  the  exploring  impulse.  But  in  a  cold,  calculating 
individual,  who  looks  ahead  and  weighs  the  chances,  these 
conditions  are  most  marked.  In  early  child  life  interest  is 
almost  altogether  of  the  exploring  kind.  First,  it  is  phj^si- 
cal  exploration  ;  the  infant  explores  his  ow^n  body,  then  for- 
eign bodies,  his  room,  then  adjacent  rooms.  The  direction 
of  his  attention  is  largely  accidental,  depending  upon  casual 
stimulations.  Then  there  begins  a  kind  of  moral  explora- 
tion, the  understanding  of  his  own  dress,  toys,  utensils,  the 
fitting  of  things  together,  the  meaning  of  facial  and  vocal 
expression.  The  exploring  instincts  satisfied,  his  interest 
is  at  an  end. 

This  class  of  interesting  experiences,  however,  belong  to 
the  more  superficial,  shifting,  and  variable  side  of  one's 
life.  They  represent  the  come-and-go  of  the  attention  as 
we  follow  its  quick  responses.     Purely  intellectual  interest 


246  INTEnmST,   nEALITT,  AND  BELIEF. 

is,  therefore,  temporary  ;  it  does  not  attach  itself  firmly 
enough  to  its  object  to  cause  the  latter  to  become  one  of 
our  interests  or  goods.  I  am  interested  in  the  morning 
paper,  the  street  sights,  my  afternoon  drive,  and  the  debat- 
ing society  ;  but  to-morrow  a  set  of  new  engagements 
carries  my  interest,  and  the  experiences  of  yesterdaj^,  now 
past,  only  furnish  one  or  two  points  at  which  my  perma- 
nent life  interests  have  been  touched.  What,  then,  consti- 
tutes more  permanent  interest,  over  and  above  the  simple 
interest  of  the  intellectual  act  of  discrimination? 

Emotional  and  Active  Interest.  So  far  interest  simply 
represents  a  tendency  to  know.  Its  objects  are  mere  objects 
tliat  come  and  go  indifferently  to  us  ;  when  we  have  learned 
what  they  are  and  how  they  act,  our  curiosity  is  satisfied. 
But  bring  them  within  the  line  of  our  emotional  or  voli- 
tional reactions,  and  everything  is  changed.  Does  their 
being  what  they  are  or  doing  what  they  do  have  anj^  effect 
upon  me  ?  Tliat  is  the  vital  question.  The  errand  boy  in 
an  ofiice  carries  fifty  letters  a  day  to  his  emploj-er,  and  they 
have  no  interest  for  him  ;  he  knows  them  to  be  letters  for 
X.  Y.  Z.,  and  his  curiosity  is  satisfied.  But  let  one  letter 
come  to  himself,  and  then  not  the  words  it  contains  or  the 
love  it  brings  interests  him  alone  ;  but  the  envelope,  its 
sides  and  corners,  the  stamp,  the  address,  the  very  odor  of 
it,  fairly  burn  him  with  tlieir  interesting  aspects.  An}^- 
thing,  in  short,  gets  interesting  which  has,  besides  its  rela- 
tion to  other  things  and  people,  a  power  to  make  me  feel 
and  act.  I  may  know  the  presence  of  a  thing  and  not  be 
interested  ;  but  I  cannot /"ee/  its  presence,  and  much  less 
can  I  act  upon  its  presence,  without  coming  to  think  it  to 
be  worth  my  close  attention.  And  such  emotional  interest 
seems  to  arise  in  different  circumstances,  as  follows  : 

1.  Whatever  directly  causes  me  pleasure  or jKiin  excites 
interest.  Here  the  reference  to  self  is  so  immediate  that 
the  knowing  function  which  the  attention  brings  with  it  is 
simply  a  self -preserving  function.     I  am  interested  in  pain 


EMOTIONAL  AND  ACTIVE  INTEREST.  247 

to  discover  its  cause  and  remove  it,  and  in  pleasure  to 
understand  and  continue  it.  This  is  what  pleasure  and 
pain  are  for,  to  warn  and  advise  ;  and  to  say  tliey  interest 
us  is  only  to  say  that  they  carry  this  function  into  the  life 
of  til  ought. 

The  feeling  of  interest,  therefore,  seems  to  be  an  added 
thing  to  the  pleasure  and  pain  tone.  It  arises  in  connec- 
tion with  the  apprehending  of  the  tone  and  its  causes. 
We  would  hardly  say  that  an  oj^ster  is  interested  when  a 
sliarp  instrument  is  thrust  painfully  between  his  shells. 
The  intrusion  affects  him,  and  it  is  in  his  interest  to  avoid 
it  ;  but  it  is  truer  to  say  tliat  it  hurts  than  that  it  interests 
him.  Circumstances  can  be  conceived  in  which  pleasure 
and  pain  would  lack  interest  ;  as,  for  example,  the  pain  of 
an  incurable  physical  trouble  or  a  preying  mental  anxiety  ; 
such  pains  are  understood  and  endured  without  an}'  but 
the  neo^ative  interest  of  the  endeavor  to  forc^et  them. 

2.  Equally  original  is  the  interest  aroused  by  our  voli- 
tional life.  Ordinarily  we  act  in  reference  to  a  thing 
because  we  are  interested  in  it,  which  means  because  we 
are  impelled  by  intellectual  or  emotional  interest.  But  it 
is  still  true  that,  after  acting,  our  interest  is  .greater  than 
before.  Any  effort  expended  on  a  thing  makes  it  more 
worthful  to  us.  The  reader  may  have  only  the  interest  of 
courtesy  in  a  new  method  of  shuffling  cards  or  of  holding 
his  pen  ;  but  after  one  effort,  his  growing  interest  will  lead 
him  to  new  endeavors.  Again,  even  when  there  is  at  first 
no  thought  of  a  thing,  tool,  utensil,  etc.,  and  it  is  used  onl}^ 
as  a  means  to  a  more  distant  end,  interest  will  gather  around 
it  for  itself  after  long  use.  Wiio  does  not  i)art,  with  an 
interest  which  is  positive  pain,  from  an  old  pair  of  shoes  or 
his  last  summer's  straw  hat?  The  increase  which  accrues 
to  interest  by  sharing  it  also  illustrates  this  volitional  and 
emotional  element.  Sharing  is  the  result  of  the  emotion 
of  sympathy,  and  proceeds  by  action. 

Here,  again,  it  may  be  remarked  that  the  interest  attaches 


248  INTEnEST,  BEALITT,   AND  BELIEF. 

to  the  object,  not  to  the  activity,  except  in  early  child  life, 
when  movements  are  themselves  objects  of  interest.  But 
it  attache^  to  the  object  because  it  is  related  to  my  activity. 
No  one's  else  exertion  arouses  my  interest  in  the  same  way. 

Interest  of  Custom  or  Habit.  Very  slight  self- obser- 
vation is  sufficient  to  show  that  while  repetition  diminishes 
the  temporary  intellectual  interest  spoken  of,  it  is  still 
often  through  habituation  that  real  interests  are  formed. 
There  is  a  distinct  line  bej^ond  which  the  customary  ceases 
to  be  tiring  and  becomes  interesting.  Before  this  line  of 
experience,  things  are  faded  and  washed  out  ;  but  as  we 
grow  accustomed  to  them,  we  begin  to  find  ourselves  expect- 
ing to  find  them,  relying  upon  them,  appealing  to  them 
with  an  interest  born  simply  of  old  acquaintanceship. 

It  is  undoubtedly  through  this  principle  of  custom  that 
some  of  our  deepest  life  interests  are  generated.  We  grow 
to  think  of  ourselves  with  certain  accessories  which  have 
always  accompanied  us.  So  a  business  man's  interests 
narrow  down  to  his  business,  because  all  his  habits  bear 
upon  it.  A  man  of  college  culture  loses  his  interest  in 
literature  and  science  because  his  regular  routine  in  after- 
life does  not  include  such  subjects.  We  become  interested 
in  certain  classes  of  people  because  we  are  thrown  with 
them.  The  cure  of  unfortunate  love  is  separation,  and  the 
hope  of  an  unsuccessful  suitor  lies  in  the  art  of  keeping 
himself  and  his  proposals  in  the  mind  of  the  woman  he 
hopes  to  win. 

Definition  of  Interest.  A  thread  of  common  value 
may  now  be  detected  running  through  the  complex  phe- 
nomena of  interest.  Objects  are  interesting  only  as  they 
affect  us  or  are  associated  with  objects  that  affect  us. 
And  by  the  phrase  "affect  us,"  we  mean — work  some 
change  in  the  sensibility,  which  tends,  by  the  law  of 
motor-reaction,  to  realize  itself  in  activity.  Given  such  a 
modification  of  the  affective  consciousness,  and  interest 
invariably  arises. 


REALITY-FEELING.  240 

Now,  such  aifective  modifications  may  come  in  two 
ways.  The  two  great  stimuli  to  activity  are  pleasure  and 
pain  on  the  one  hand,  and  suggestion  on  the  other/  Sug- 
gestion is  passing,  shifting,  temporary  ;  the  interest  it 
arouses  is  intellectual,  temporary  interest.  But  pleasure 
and  pain,  in  all  their  range,  represent  the  constitutional 
and  permanent ;  as  stimuli  to  movement,  they  are  recur- 
rent. And  the  interests  they  arouse  are  the  deep-seated 
life-interests  already  examined. 

Tlie  common  element,  further,  is  an  impulsive  element — 
a  tendency  element — realizing  its  object  through  the  atten- 
tion. Accordingly,  in  view  of  all  tliat  has  been  said,  we 
may  define  interest  as  impulse  to  attend.  And  since  it  is 
in  the  attention  that  all  mental  synthesis  takes  place,  we 
may  say,  as  an  alternative  statement,  that  interest  is  the 
consciousness  of  a  tendency  to  think.  The  amount  of 
interest  an  object  or  topic  will  have  for  us  at  any  time  is 
the  amount  of  calling  out  force  it  ex3rts  iqyon  the  attention, 
both  by  direct  suggestion  and  by  association. 

Interest  as  Ideal  Emotion.  Consideration,  therefore 
justifies  the  view  that  interest  is  the  subjective  side  of  the 
apperceptive  function.  Habit  diminislies  interest  because 
it  diminishes  the  intensity  and  energy  of  presentative  con- 
struction ;  but  habit  begets  interest  because  it  makes  deep 
and  strong  the  lines  of  associative  or  representative  con- 
struction. By  repetition,  simple  suggestions  lose  their 
force  ;  but  by  repetition  the  moving  principles  of  our 
nature  gain  force  as  stimuli  to  the  relating  process  of 
attention. 

§  2.  Reality-Feeling. 

Distinction  between  Belief  and  Sense  of  Reality. 
Without  entering  at  this  point  into  the  grounds  of  the  dis- 
tinction, two  different  sorts  of  feeling  may  be  denoted  by 
tlie  terms  reality -feeling  and  belief.  The  phrase  reality- 
feeling  denotes  the  fundamental  modification  of  conscious- 
'  See  below,  chap.  xxiv. 


S50  INTEREST,   REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

ness  which  attaclies  to  the  presentative  side  of  sensational 
states — the  feeling  which  means,  as  the  child  afterward 
learns,  that  an  object  is  really  there.  By  tlie  word  belief, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  may  denote  the  feeling  which 
attaches  to  what  may  be  a  secondary  or  representative  state 
of  mind,  and  indicates  the  amount  of  assurance  we  have  at 
the  time  that  an  object  is  there.  The  idea  to  which  the 
reality- feeling  attaches,  may  be  said  to  have  its  own 
guarantee  of  its  reality  ;  it  is  a  given,  and  my  feeling  of  it 
is  direct  acquaintance  with  it.  But  the  idea  to  which  be- 
lief attaches  is  guaranteed  by  some  other  mental  state,  by 
what  I  know  about  it,  or  by  its  connection  w^ith  ideas 
already  guaranteed.  This  distinction  and  its  bearings  will 
become  clear  as  the  exposition  proceeds.* 

Rise  of  Reality  Feeling.  The  dawning  consciousness 
of  a  child — passive  consciousness,  as  it  has  already  been 
called — is  filled  with  affective  sensational  happenings.  All 
it  lias  at  first  is  feeling,  and  feeling  of  one  kind.  This 
feeling  has  no  meaning  whatever  ;  for  by  meaning  we 
mean  interpretation  in  terms  of  something  else,  and  there  is 
nothing  else.  The  flash  of  light,  the  muscular  sensation, 
the  pain,  each  is  simply  this,  an  experience.  There  can  be 
no  distinction  corresponding  to  reality  and  unreality,  inner 
and  outer,  subject  and  object,  presentation  and  representa- 
tion. 

Reality-feeling,  therefore,  at  this  early  stage,  is  simply 
the  fact  of  feeling  ;  nothing  more,  but  this  much.  Exist- 
ence is  simply  presence  ;  but  presence  is  existence,  and 
whatever  is,  in  consciousness,  is  real.^ 

'  To  the  mind  of  the  writer  this  distinction  is  a  fundamental  and 
vital  one.  Yet  it  has,  as  far  as  he  knows,  been  made  nowhere  in 
psychologic^  literature, 

2  In  dreams  the  simple  reality-feeling  is  present  without  belief,  as 
is  proved  by  the  fact  that  the  grossest  inconsistencies  are  accepted. 
This  simply  shows  that  consciousness  has  lost  its  questioning  attitude 
altogether— belief  as  such  does  not  arise  ;  but  reality  is  there  in  its 
full  strength 


RISE  OF  UXnEALlTY-FEELIXG.  Sol 

Rise  of  Uni^eality-Feeling.  Further,  tlie  early  con- 
sciousness soon  experiences  something  quite  different  from 
this  feeling  of  presence.  As  soon  as  appetite  and  impulse 
assert  themselves,  they  are  felt — indeed  thej  make  the 
keenest  demands  upon  the  early  sensibility.  As  we  adults 
look  at  it,  it  is  a  feeling  of  lack,  want,  need  ;  but  to  the 
infant  it  is  simply  a  feeling,  and  a  new  one.  But  this  new 
feeling  must  very  quickly  get  connected  with  the  reality 
or  presence-feeling  :  say  the  sensation  of  the  white  surface 
and  warm  touch  of  the  milk-bottle,  as  following  upon  the 
lack  of  food.  In  other  words,  a  simple  presence-feeling 
becomes  connected  with  a  simple  ahsence-iQoimg.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  two  come  together,  and  it  is  perhaps 
the  earliest  felt  distinction  in  the  infant  consciousness — 
vague  hunger-feeling,  presence-feeling  of  taste  and  touch, 
absence-feeling  when  the  supply  is  cut  off.  This  absence- 
feeling  is  the  first  and  original  unreality 'feeling . 

Closer  examination  again  shows  us  that  this  unreality- 
feeling  has  nothing  to  do  with  a  negation  of  belief — with 
doubt  or  hesitation,  the  true  negation  of  belief.  If  the 
sense  of  unreality  arose  as  a  contradiction  of  the  sense  of 
reality,  there  would  be  some  justification  for  this  view. 
But  in  that  case  we  would  not  have  a  sense  of  unreality, 
but  a  sense  of  the  reality  of  a  new  and  contradictory 
experience.  For  example,  the  early  consciousness  has  a 
single  candle  before  it — a  reality-feeling.  Suddenly  the 
candle  goes  out.  Darkness  is  now  a  new  reality-feeling. 
A  memory  of  the  candle  persists  and  conflicts  with  the 
present  darkness,  and  a  new  feeling  arises — doubt,  per- 
plexity— the  foundation  of  belief,  as  appears  below.  But 
the  unreality-feeling  has  an  entirely  different  origin — in 
our  active  impulsive  nature.  It  comes  before  there  is  any 
conflict,  and  lingers  after  such  a  conflict,  distinct  from  the 
feeling  to  which  this  conflict  gives  rise. 

Degrees  of  Reality  and  Unreality-Feeling.  Both  of 
these  original  forms  of  feeling  must  have  degrees.     Not 


252  mTEUEST,  REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

only  to  the  child  is  the  reality  of  food  more  intense  and 
consuming  when  it  is  hungry  tlian  when  it  is  filled,  but  to 
the  mature  man  there  are  realities  and  realities.  Everyone 
of  us  has  his  true  reality,  liis  real  and  eternal  as  opposed  to 
his  unreal  and  temporal.  Even  external  things  sometimes 
seem  to  bruise  and  wound  us,  so  hard  and  stubborn  does 
their  reality  become  ;  and  again,  all  the  world  seems  thin, 
flimsy,  and  unsubstantial.  We  believe  many  a  fact  of 
which  we  fail  to  get  a  "  realizing  sense."  Simple  condi- 
tions of  the  nervous  system  derange  our  sense  of  reality  ; 
and  emotional  conditions  suflice  to  infuse  body  into  our 
life  experiences  or  to  render  them  ghosts  of  profitless  pur- 
suit. Confining  ourselves,  however,  now  to  the  infant's 
life,  we  may  say  that  his  most  vivid  realities  are  those 
sensational  states  which  satisfy  his  appetites  and  needs. 

Physiological  Basis  of  the  Reality-  and  Unreality- 
Feeling.  The  organic  basis  of  these  feelings,  it  is  easy  to 
see,  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  organic  basis  of  con- 
sciousness itself.  Any  sensory  process  has  its  feeling  of 
reality  element,  and  any  tendency  to  movement  has  its 
unreality-feeling,  succeeded  by  reality-feeling,  in  the  sen- 
sory process  which  satisfies  it.  Further,  this  feeling  of 
need  must  arisa  from  a  lack  of  sufficient  stimulation  in  the 
sensory  seat,  which  lack  is  itself  a  stimulus  to  the  motor 
process  by  which  the  lack  is  supplied ;  the  connection 
between  the  two  processes  being  fixed  by  heredity  and 
experience. 

Looked  at  more  broadly,  here  is  an  organism  in  a  world 
of  environing  conditions  ;  a  certain  sensational  process 
represents  its  best  life  among  these  conditions.  When  it 
fails  of  this  normal  sensational  process,  its  very  lack  is  a 
stimulus  to  a  motor  process  by  which  the  normal  sensa- 
tional process  is  re-established.  Assuming  this  normal 
sensational  process,  whatever  it  may  turn  out  to  be,  let  us 
call  it  the  sensational  coefficient.  By  this  phrase  is  then 
meant  the  element  of  nervous  activity  which,  being  present, 


REALITY-  AND    UmiEALITY-FEELlNG .  253 

gives  a  sensation :  over  and  above  the  activity  which  gives 
a  memory  picture  or  arouses  an  impulse.  The  sensational 
coefficient  is  the  activity  which  is  regularly  aroused  \>y  a 
real  object. 

In  this  feeling  of  reality  we  find  the  mental  "predis- 
position to  illusion  "  referred  to  in  a  previous  chapter.*  If 
the  presence  of  the  sensational  coefficient  gives  "real" 
coloring  to  a  conscious  state,  then,  whenever  this  coefficient 
is  present,  reality  is  reached.  But  if,  by  reason  of  undue 
excitability  from  disease,  emotion,  expectation,  or  other 
internal  causes,  this  coefficient  is  artificially  brought  about 
when  no  reality  corresponds,  then  illusion  results. 

Our  general  outcome  so  far  is,  accordingly,  this  :  the 
feeling  of  reality  is  simj^ly  consciousness  itself ;  it  is  most 
vivid  ichen  it  accompanies  a  nervous  process  having  the 
sensational  coefficient.  The  feeling  of  unreality  arises  in 
connection  loith  appetites  and  impulses  which  residt  from 
the  absence  of  the  sen  satioi^al  coefficient  i?i  particular  sensory 
brain  seats.  This  may  be  called  the  first  stage  in  the 
development  of  the  consciousness  of  reality. 

§  3.  Belief. 

The  feeling  of  belief  is  a  feeling  which  attaches  to  the 
representative  faculty  primarily.  It  is  only  when  memory 
and  imagination  come  to  bring  up  rival  candidates  for  our 
acceptance  that  we  believe  or  disbelieve.  Tlie  foregoing 
discussion  suffices  to  show  that  something  else  must  be 
added  to  the  simple  feelings  of  reality  and  unreality,  as 
these  arise  in  connection  with  sensations,  to  constitute  true 
belief.  The  question  of  belief,  put  most  broadly,  is  this  : 
Why  is  it  that,  of  two  images  which  come  into  my  con- 
sciousness, I  discard  the  one  as  an  imagination,  a  phantasm, 
and  accept  the  other  as  a  memory  or  a  present  fact  ? 

Doubt  Precedes  Belief.  It  was  said  above  that  the 
unreality-feeling  comes  in  cases  of  apjietite,  to  oppose  the 
simple  reality-feeling  of  presentation  or  memory.  The 
^  Above,  p.  196. 


254  lyTEUEST,  REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

reality-feeling  doubtless  attaches  at  first  to  a  memory  of  a 
caudle  as  to  a  real  candle,  and  nothing  contradicts  it. 
But,  with  other  memories,  this  reality-feeling  is  rudely  dis- 
turbed. The  memory  of  food  suggested  to  an  infant  by 
vain  sucking  at  an  empty  bottle  no  longer  has  the  reality- 
feeling.  Unreality  takes  its  place.  So  certain  memories 
get  labeled  as  unreal.  And  it  is  the  discovery  of  this  possi- 
ble unreality — the  discovery  of  the  possible  absence  of  the 
sensational  coefficient,  as  the  impulse-satisfying  thing — this 
is  the  beginning  of  doubt. 

That  this  is  not  theoretical  only  is  proved  from  the 
observation  of  young  children.  They  have  implicit  con- 
fidence in  everything  at  first,  but  soon  a  stage  is  reached 
of  hesitation  and  doubt.  Unaccustomed  tilings  have  so 
often  brought  pain  that  the  new — the  strange  face,  the 
unusual  expression  of  a  familiar  face,  a  new  room,  a  new 
plaything — are  treated  cautiously  and  with  manifest  dis- 
trust. The  question  is  :  Can  I  trust  the  new  image  to 
satisfy  my  impulse  toward  it  ? 

Development  of  Doubt.  As  the  rise  of  doubt  is  due  in 
child  life  to  the  failure  of  a  state  to  satisfy,  to  the  absence 
of  the  sensational  coefficient,  so  all  higher  doubt  can  be 
traced  to  like  conditions.  I  doubt  an  image,  a  statement, 
a  law,  because  it  does  not  meet  the  demands  that  I  have  a 
riofht  to  make  of  it  if  its  claim  be  true.  Just  as  there  is  a 
sensational  coefficient,  so  there  is  an  aesthetic  coefficient,  a 
moral  and  an  intellectual  coefficient — that  quality  in  each 
of  these  fields  which  satisfies  the  demands  of  my  nature  in 
these  directions  severally.  I  doubt  that  a  face  can  be 
called  beautiful,  because  my  aesthetic  sense  is  not  satisfied 
with  it.  I  doubt  whether  tuberculine  cures  consumption, 
because  my  logical  sense  is  not  satisfied  with  the  evidence  ; 
and  so  on  everywhere. 

There  are  a  great  many  things  in  our  lives  which  never 
pass  into  the  stage  of  doubt  or  belief  at  all  ;  things  which 
yemain  under  tlie  rule  of  the  simple  sense  of  reality.     My 


RESOLUTION  OF  DOUBT.  256 

mother's  love,  for  example,  is  a  thing  in  which  I  cannot  be 
said  to  believe.  It  was  one  of  the  first  realities  of  which  I 
became  sensible.  My  realitv-feeling  in  reference  to  her 
has  never  been  disturbed  one  way  or  the  other,  and  so  it 
has  remained  undoubted  and  unasserted.  So  it  is  with  the 
religious  truth  in  which  one  is  reared.  It  is  a  shock  to  the 
sensibilities  to  ask  the  question,  Do  j^ou  believe  ?  for  the 
first  time  ;  it  suggests  the  possibility  of  doubt,  and  puts  us 
under  the  necessity  of  turning  simple  reality  into  grounded 
belief.  But  of  other  people  than  my  mother — my  books, 
say  ;  and  of  other  truth  than  religion — my  history  lesson, 
say — I  make  certain  demands,  and  condition  what  is  truly 
belief  upon  the  way  these  demands  are  met. 

Resolution  of  Doubt.  As  doubt  arises  from  the  atti- 
tude of  mind  toward  a  new  image,  so  doubt  is  resolved  by 
an  actual  resort  to  experience,  as  far  as  that  is  possible.  In 
the  case  of  sensible  things  we  try  and  see  w^hether  the 
image  have  the  sensational  coefiicient.  If  the  child  has 
once  been  fooled  by  an  empty  bottle  it  doubts  the  bottle 
at  its  next  appearance  ;  but  its  method  of  testing  it  is 
always  the  same  :  it  tries  it.  Does  it  get  the  needful  sen- 
sation ? — then  reality  is  here  ;  if  not,  then  not.  In  all 
kinds  of  belief  there  are  such  tests,  as  appears  more  fully 
below. 

Nature  of  Belief.  Now  the  feeling  which  follows  in 
every  case  is  a  feeling  of  resolved  doubt ;  it  is  not  the 
simple  feeling  of  reality  which  prevailed  before  the  doubt, 
or  of  unreality  as  unsatisfied  need.  It  is  a  larger,  freer, 
fuller  state  of  mind.  It  is  belie/ and  disbelief',  or  better, 
positive  belief  and  negative  belief  ;  for  the  two  are  one 
state  of  mind.  And  the  opposite  of  belief  is  doubt,  as  has 
been  seen.* 

One  only  has  to  question  himself  with  ordinary  care  to 

'  The  word  belief  is  hereafter  used  to  cover  both  belief  and  dis- 
belief, the  latter  being  eciuivalent  to  belief  in  somethipg  which 
negates  tlmtr  which  is  disbelieved. 


256  INTEREST,   REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

find  the  truth  of  this  result.  The  very  word  belief  brings 
up  suggestions  of  uncertainty.  The  mental  side  of  this 
state  cannot  be  separated  from  the  inheritance  of  associ- 
ates which  swing  down  tlie  tide  of  consciousness  to  attach 
themselves  to  it.  As  long  as  I  am  unaware  of  the  real 
force  of  a  thing,  its  sensational,  emotional,  or  convincing 
property,  I  simply  let  it  pass.  There  are  thousands  of 
tilings  about  us,  social  conventions,  red  tape  enactments, 
customs  of  dress  and  daily  habit,  which  I  conform  to  be- 
cause they  are  not  worth  the  trouble  of  a  more  serious 
attitude  of  mind.  But  what  I  believe  has  its  pros  and 
cons  ;  and  however  vaguely,  still  really,  I  am  better  satis- 
fied with  t\\Q  pros  than  with  the  cons.  Kow,  for  the  first 
time,  therefore,  we  have  belief.  And  from  the  foregoing 
its  conditions  are  more  or  less  plain.  Of  belief  in  sen- 
sible things  we  may  say  it  is  a  feeling  of  confirma- 
tion and  security  oi^er  and  above  the  feeling  of  simple  re- 
ality. It  is  the  distinct  feeling  of  ratification  which  I 
myself  give  to  reality  by  being  satisfied  with  it.  I  consent 
to  it.  Without  anticipating  details  which  are  not  neces- 
sary here,  sensuous  belief,  and,  by  implication,  all  belief 
with  it,  may  be  defined  as  cotisciousness  of  the  personal 
endorsement  of  reality.^ 

Reaction  of  Belief  on  Reality.  This  may  be  called 
the  second  stage  in  the  development  of  the  consciousness 
of  reality  ;  the  simple  reality-feeling  has  passed  into  be- 
lief. Belief  then  becomes  the  test  of  reality.  We  turn 
back  ruthlessly  upon  all  we  have  accepted  and  see  whether 
it  will  stand  the  tests  of  reality  at  this  second  stage  ; 
whether  it  is  meeting  the  full  demands  which  our  credence 
makes  upon  it.  Realities  to  me  then  become  what  I  be- 
lieve, and  what  I  believe  is  what  meets  the  requirements  of 
my  life. 

^  On  the  relation  of  Belief,  as  thus  defined,  to  Judgment,  see 
my  article  "Feeling,  Belief,  and  Judgment"'  in  Mind,  N.  S.,  vol.  i. 
p.  403. 


BELIEF  m  EXTERNAL  REALITY.  257 

Kinds  of  Belief.  Broadening  our  outlook  we  are  able 
to  distinguish  several  aspects  or  phases  of  this  feelings 
which  we  may  call  respectively  belief  in  the  external  world, 
belief  hi  memory,  logical  belief  belief  in  ideals,  etc.  The 
general  theory  already  set  forth  leads  us  to  see  that  in 
each  case  there  must  be  an  impulse  or  tendency  to  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  experience,  and  that  the  reality  of  that 
experience  must  depend  upon  its  capacity  to  satisfy  the 
tendency  involved.  Calling  in  each  case  this  ability  to 
satisfy  the  "  coefficient,"  we  have  as  many  coefficients  of 
reality  as  there  are  fundamental  tendencies  of  our  nature. 

§  4.  Belief  in  External  Reality. 

Its  CoeflB-cient.^  A  few  more  words  maybe  said  about 
external  reality  as  contrasted  with  the  other  kinds  of 
reality  in  which  we  believe.  The  question  suggests  itself  : 
What  in  consciousness  is  the  sensational  coefficient  ? 
Granted  such  a  nervous  process  whenever  a  real  object  is 
present,  what  mental  changes  does  it  work  ? 

We  are  now  able  to  call  upon  the  determinations  already 
made  in  regard  to  the  grounds  of  illusion.^  The  grounds 
of  illusion  must  be  the  marks  which  give  the  semblance, 
the  coefficient,  of  reality.  Most  generally  speaking  they  are 
two  :  first,  very  high  intensity,  and  second,  uncontrollable- 
ness.  Whenever  a  mental  state  is  intense,  be  it  sensation 
or  image,  and  resists  all  endeavor  of  ours  to  modify  or 
banish  it,  it  carries  our  belief,  it  is  real,  as  far  as  sensational 
tests  are  concerned,  i.e.,  as  far  as  the  sensational  coefficient 
goes.  I  may  have  often  grounds  for  distrusting  such  a 
state,  other  coefficients  which  I  invoke  as  of  more  worth  to 
me  in  deciding  the  case  than  the  sensational  tests;  but  if 
I  had  only  the  latter,  if  I  were  merely  a  being  of  sensations 
and  reactions,  intense  persistent  states  would  always  and 
invariably  sum  up  reality  for  me. 

Of  these  two  elements  of  the  sensational  coefficient  the 
latter  is  more  important  and  essential.  Siniple  reality- 
^  Above,  p.  194  ff. 


258  INTEREST,   REALITY,    AXD  BELIEF. 

feeling  attaclies  to  intense  and  feeble  images  alike,  pro- 
vided no  impulse  arise  which  fails  to  find  its  satisfaction  in 
the  feeble  ones.  But  in  the  element  of  uncontrollableness 
we  have  a  confirmation  of  the  impulse  origin  of  all  belief. 
Our  impulses,  our  life  needs,  are  fixed  and  permanent,  not 
subject  to  our  will  or  control  ;  so  are  their  satisfactions, 
the  realities  we  have  reached  in  our  life  experience. 

Primacy  of  Muscular  Sensations  as  Giving  External 
Reality.  In  an  earlier  place,'  touch — with  muscular 
sensibility — was  called  the  "  controlling  sense,"  because 
questions  of  reality  are  referred  to  it  for  decision.  We 
now  see  why  this  is  so.  It  is  through  muscular  movement 
that  will  and  impulse  and  appetite,  that  all  outgoing 
processes,  are  realized.  If  natural  satisfactions,  therefore, 
are  the  basis  of  belief  in  external  reality,  then  the  medium 
of  such  satisfactions  must  be  the  medium  also  of  the  sense 
of  reality.  And  further,  motor-reaction  is  itself  an  im- 
pulsive, original  thing,  and  takes  place  largely  through  the 
stimulus  of  resistance  ;  consequently  the  presence  of  re- 
sistances is  itself  the  gratification  of  the  need  of  motor- 
development — perhaps  the  most  general  and  fundamental 
sensational  need  that  we  have.  If  we  could  get  satisfac- 
tions without  muscular  sensations,  then  the  latter  would 
not  be  the  tests  of  external  reality. 

Primary  Criterion  of  External  Reality.  Consequently 
it  is  only  what  we  would  expect  that  sensations  of  resist- 
ance become  the  primary  criterion  of  all  external  reality. 
Anything  that  resists  my  will  is  believed  to  have  present 
reality.  And  it  is  not  simply  resistance  through  contact, 
but,  by  generalization,  resistance  in  any  of  the  classes  of 
sensation.  A  stifling  smoke  resists  my  will  to  be  rid  of  it, 
that  is,  the  physiological  effort  I  make  +o  banish  it  shows 
me  that  I  have  no  control  over  it. 
>  Above,  p.  95. 


I 


BELIEF  IN  MEMORY.  259 

§  5.  Belief  in  Memory. 

TliG  Memory-coeflB-cient.  By  memoiy-coefficient  is 
meant  the  coloring  of  reality  which  some  images  have,  as 
re])resenting  former  states  of  consciousness  :  that  by  which 
I  distinguish  a  memory  from  a  dream  or  a  creature  of  the 
imagination.  In  general  terms,  it  is  the  question  of  recog- 
nition over  again  :  belief  in  memory  is  the  feeling  which 
attaches  to  imacjes  recoo^nized;  and  as  recoo^nition  has  been 
seen  to  rest  in  the  sense  of  diminished  expenditure  or 
easier  adjustment  of  attention  involved  in  the  reinstate- 
ment of  a  content  in  apperception,  we  have  here  a  suffi- 
cient statement  of  the  intellectual  conditions  of  the  feel- 
ing of  memory-reality.* 

As  feeling,  however,  two  very  distinct  forms  of  reality- 
consciousness  attach  to  memory  :  first,  what  we  may  call 
the  simple  sense  of  revival  or  recurrence,  and  second,  the 
belief  that  what  is  thus  recognized  was  itself  a  real  ob- 
jective thing  when  it  was  first  experienced.  I  may  re- 
member a  dream,  recognize  it,  and  believe  in  it  as  truly  a 
memory,  and  yet  be  in  doubt  as  to  whether  it  was  a  dream 
or  a  real  occurrence  when  I  first  experienced  it. 

The  memory-coefficient  of  belief  attaches  properh^  only 
to  the  first  of  these  states  :  it  answers  the  question,  What 
shall  I  recognize  ?  The  further  point  of  feeling — that 
which  attaches  to  the  answer  to  the  question.  Is  what  I 
recognize  a  reality  ? — requires  further  inquiry  into  the 
nature  of  the  memory  in  question.  Does  the  memory 
recognized  include  memory  of  the  sensational  coefficient  ? 
Did  I  believe  it  to  be  a  real  object  when  I  first  experienced 
it  ?  This  question  determines  whether  I  shall  feel  it  to  be 
the  memory  of  an  objective  thing  or  no.  So  with  any 
other  of  the  higher  kinds  of  reality-coefficients  jQt  to  be 
spoken  of.  Do  I  recognize  a  former  image  of  a  beautiful 
face?  Yes;  but  do  I  recognize  it  as  a  living  beautiful 
face?  That  depends  upon  the  kind  of  coefficient,  sens^i,* 
»  Above,  p.  150  ff, 


260  INTEREST,   REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 

tional,  imaginary,  aesthetic,  etc.,  of  my  earlier  view  of  the 
face. 

Memory-coeflB.eient  Proper.  The  question  then,  Why 
do  I  recognize  anything  consciously  at  all?  has  its  answer 
in  the  memory-coefficient  proper,  viz.,  because  I  can  repro- 
duce it  voluntarily  by  starting  a  chain  of  associations  lead- 
ing iqy  to  it.  I  have  control  over  it  in  this  sense,  that  it  is 
at  my  command  for  reproduction.  My  past  is  mine  only 
in  as  far  as  I  can  utilize  it  in  my  present.  I  refresh  my 
memory  by  rehearsing  details,  and  thus  bringing  up  points 
which,  if  simply  suggested  to  me  without  their  earlier  con- 
nections, I  might  have  failed  to  recognize.  So  we  reach 
two  kinds  of  present  reality  :  present  external  reality, 
guaranteed  by  its  independence  of  my  will,  and  present 
memory  realit}^,  guaranteed  by  subjection  to  my  will. 

Completed  Criterion  of  External  Reality.  Besides 
the  primary  criterion  of  external  reality  found  in  feelings 
of  resistance,  a  secondary  criterion  is,  therefore,  supplied  by 
memory.  Of  the  two  kinds  of  memories,  both  having  the 
memory  coefficient,  those  which  represent  external  realities 
and  those  which  do  not,  the  former  are  important  factors 
in  the  development  of  our  idea  of  the  world  without. 
Among  the  trains  of  association  by  which  memories  may 
be  voluntarily  brought  up  are  certain  muscular  trains, 
themselves  accompanied  by  memories  of  resistance,  and  the 
memories  brought  up  by  them  are  also  so  accompanied.  It 
is  only  these  muscular  resisting  trains  terminating  in  a  re- 
sisting experience  which  carry  belief  in  external  things 
remembered.  For  example,  I  remember  equally  a  merman 
and  a  salesman.  I  can  get  the  shopman  again  as  a  present 
(resisting)  reality  by  reproducing  the  series  of  muscular 
(voluntary,  but  resisting)  sensations  required  to  revisit  his 
shop.  But  I  can  only  get  the  merman  as  an  image  (unre- 
sisting) by  a  train  of  ideal  (voluntary,  but  unresisting)  asso- 
ciates. The  former  alone  I  do  and  must  consider  externally 
real,     The  secondary  criterion  of  external  reality,  there- 


BELIEF  IN  CONCEPTS  AND  THOUGHTS.         261 

fore,  is  my  ability  to  reinstate  resisting  experiences  at 
icill. 

In  this  secondary  criterion  tlie  element  of  persistence  in- 
cluded in  our  idea  of  external  things  seems  to  take  its  rise. 
In  saying  things  are,  we  mean  also  that  they  continue.  That 
is,  as  we  have  seen,  we  mean  that  we  are  able  to  go  and 
find  them  again,  and  find  them  with  the  same  resistance 
they  showed  when  we  experienced  them  before.  To  a 
creature  without  memory  reality  would  be  simply  resist- 
ances got  successive!}^  :  but  with  memory  as  recognition 
comes  also  persistence. 

The  history  of  opinion  regarding  belief  in  objective 
things  shows  that  the  twofold  nature  of  the  complete  crite- 
rion has  been  generally  overlooked.* 

§  6.  Belief  in  Concepts  and  Thoughts. 

Thought-Coefacient."  In  conception  we  pass  from  the 
simple  reproduction  of  experience  to  the  abstracting  and 
generalizing  function  of  apperception.  Conception,  judg- 
ment, reasoning,  have  been  already  described  as  the  suc- 
cessive efforts  of  consciousness  to  maintain  identity 
throughout  the  diversity  of  new  experiences.  The  funda- 
mental movement,  therefore — what  we  may  call  the  logical 
impulse — is  to  secure  identities  or  partial  identities,  resem- 
blances, consistencies,  in  its  content.  The  demand  of 
thought  in  general  is  agreement,  consistency^  ;  its  opposite 
is  contradiction  :  this  it  cannot  abide  and  be  satisfied. 

Consequently  consistency^  the  absence  of  presentative  or 
conceptual  contradiction,  is  the  thought-coefficient  of  belief. 
Where  no  other  coefficient  conflicts,  mere  consistency 
carries  intellectual  assent.     But  by  intellectual  assent,  it 

^  Cf .  the  writer's  article  "  The  Coefficient  of  External  Reality  "  in 
Mind,  xvi.  1891,  p.  389.  Also  see  the  references  to  recent  discussions 
given  in  ray  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  166. 

'■^  Compare  the  whole  of  chap.  xv.  above,  and  also  chap,  xiv,  in  my 
Handbook,  vol.  i. 


QAO! 


INTEREST,   REALITY,   AND  BELIEF. 


must  be  carefully  noted,  is  meant  formal  assent,  logical 
asserft,  indiiference  as  far  as  the  logical  impulse  is  con- 
cerned. As  to  the  belief  in  the  objective  truth  of  concepts 
and  judgments,  the  reality  of  their  content,  that  is  a  farther 
question. 

§  7.  Emotional  Belief. 

No  detailed  argument  is  required  to  show  that  strong 
emotion  has  an  influence  on  belief.  So  evident  is  this  that 
the  emotional  method  of  persuasion  is  universally  recog- 
nized. An  idea  which  strongly  excites  us  to  some  definite 
emotion,  hope,  fear,  anger,  love,  is  easily  believed  in,  and 
the  cherishing  of  the  emotion  is  a  means  of  intensifying 
conviction  in  reference  to  its  object. 

The  emotional  coeflicient,  therefore,  consists,  like  the 
sensational  coeflicient,  in  i7itensity  and  iincontrollahleness. 
While  mere  intensity  does  strengthen  conviction,  yet  it 
may  be  questioned  whether  it  is  not  mainl}^  because  it  is 
through  intensity  that  we  lose  contro'l.  As  soon  as  we  can 
get  our  emotion  under  our  will,  and  can  say  to  ourselves, 
"think  calmly,"  the  distorting  influence  of  feeling  disap- 
pears.' 

§  8.  General  Conclusion  on  Reality  and  Belief. 

The  consideration  of  the  different  coeflicients  of  belief 
leads  us  to  conclude  that  there  are  as  many  kinds  of  reality. 
There  is  moral  and  aesthetic  reality  no  less  than  logical  and 
sensational  reality  ;  and  there  is  the  same  reason  for  be- 
lieving in  one  that  there  is  in  another,  for  both  rest  upon 
the  fact  that  our  mental  nature  demands  certain  kinds  of 
satisfaction,  and  we  find  it  possible  to  get  them.  Sensa- 
tional reality  will  not  satisfy  our  logical  demands,  for 
nature  is  often  refractory  and  illogical.  Neither  will  logic 
satisfy  our  moral    and   aesthetic    demands,  for    the    log- 

^  On  the  grounds  of  our  moral  and  aesthetic  beliefs  see  below, 
chap.  xxi.  §§  6,  7. 


COMPOSITE  REALITIES.  263 

ically  true  is  often  immoral  and  hideons.  It  is  well,  there- 
fore, to  write  large  the  truth  that  logical  consistency  is  not 
the  whole  of  reality,  and  that  the  revolt  of  the  heart  against 
fact  is  often  as  legitimate  a  measure  of  the  true  in  this 
shifting  universe  as  is  the  cold  denial  given  by  rational 
conviction  to  the  vagaries  of  casual  feeling. 

Composite  Realities.  The  outcome  of  our  life  of  belief 
is  the  more  or  less  complete  adjustment  of  these  kinds 
of  reality  to  one  another.  We  find  ourselves  constantly 
denying,  minimizing,  scouting  the  external  world,  as  we 
abstract  our  higher  selves  from  connection  with  it.  Ideal- 
istic philosophy  is  a  revolt  from  the  sensational  coefficient 
in  the  name  of  the  moral  coefficient,  however  logical 
a  system  of  belief  it  claims  to  be  as  philosophy. 
Materialism,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  worship  of  the 
sensational  coefficient  as  more  real  than  any  other.  Re- 
ligious trutli  either  tells  us  which  to  put  under  and  which 
to  embrace,  or  bids  us  await  a  future  state  when  all  the 
demands  upon  us  will  be  harmoniously  adjudicated. 

What  I,  as  an  individual,  therefore,  believe  is  a  composite 
thing,  a  mixture  of  truths  representing  the  degree  of  har- 
mony I  have  succeeded  in  reaching  among  things,  which, 
taken  singly,  I  am  obliged  to  accept.  Among  them  the 
largest  place  is  given  to  external  or  sensational  reality.  I 
bring  things  wherever  possible  to  the  test  of  sensation. 
No  doubt  this  is  because  my  connection  with  the  external 
world  is  most  intimate  and  direct,  and  the  penalties  of  its 
disregard  are  most  quick  and  sure.  Next  in  practical  im- 
2:)ortance  is  the  world  of  logic  or  demonstrative  truth, 
which  holds  its  swaj"  imperatively  when  sensation  does  not 
vote  a  negative.  The  disregard  and  violation  of  aesthetic, 
moral,  and  religious  truth  are  due  to  the  difficulty  of  decid- 
ing just  what  these  coefficients  are,  and  of  disentangling 
them  from  the  swarm  of  temporary  emotional  states  which 
have  not  the  same  claim  to  satisfaction. 

Self  the  Ultimate  Reality.     Amid    the   variations   of 


264  INTERmT,   HEALITT,  AND  BELIEF. 

composite  reality  the  most  fixed  point  of  reference  is 
now  seen  to  be  the  feeling  of  self.  This  is  as  far  as  psy- 
chology can  go  with  its  analysis  of  reality.  All  reality  is 
given  us  through  our  own  experience,  and  the  center  of 
experience  is  self  and  its  needs. 

Existence.  There  are,  moreover,  as  many  kinds  of 
existence  as  there  are  coefficients  of  reality.  We  have 
already  seen  that  judgment  involves  belief  in  existence  of 
some  kind,  but  not  always  external  existence.  It  may  be 
mere  mental  existence  (imagination-coefficient),  as  in  the 
world  of  fiction  and  mythology  ;  or  ideal  existence 
(aestlietic  coefficient)  ;  or  logical  existence  (thought-coeffi- 
cient), as  belief  in  a  hypothesis  ;  or  it  may  be  what  we  call 
"real  existence"  (sensational  coefficient),  belief  in  external 
reality.  And  tilings  are  constantly  passing  from  one  of 
these  kinds  of  existence  to  another.  We  learn  that  we  had 
mistaken  the  coefficient.  Santa  Claus  passes  from  real 
existence  to  imaginative  existence  ;  disembodied  spirits  in 
the  minds  of  some  undergo  the  contrary  change  in  the 
manner  of  their  existence. 

Relation  of  Belief  to  Will.  If  the  foi-egoing  theory  of 
belief  be  true  it  is  evident  that  belief  is  not  the  feeling  of 
effort  or  volition.  It  is  a  feeling  of  willingness  or  con- 
sent, but  not  of  will.  I  often  consent  to  reality  against 
my  will.  My  consent  to  reality  is  a  forced  consent.  The 
effect  of  will  upon  belief  is  really  the  effect  of  voluntary 
attention  upon  one  or  more  of  the  coefficients  alreadj'-  men- 
tioned. Attention  may  intensify  an  image  and  so  give 
greater  sensational  or  emotional  reality.  It  may  also  dwell 
upon  and  bring  out  certain  relational  connections  of  an 
image  and  so  throw  the  logical  coefficient  on  the  side  of 
those  connections  :  it  may  refuse  to  dwell  upon  those 
relations  which  are  distasteful.  But  it  is  not  true  that  we 
can  believe  what  we  will.  To  say  we  believe  what  we 
need  is  not  to  say  we  believe  what  we  want. 

Definition.     Belief  was  above  defined  as  the  conscious- 


INTEREST  AND  BELIEF.  265 

ness  of  the  personal  indorsement  of  reality.  Reality  we 
have  now  found  to  be  a  general  term  for  that  kind  of  ex- 
perience which  satisfies  one  or  more  of  the  needs  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Belief  in  anything  is,  then,  put  most  generally,  the 
consciousness  of  the  prese?ice  of  that  thing  as  fitted  to  satisfy 
a  need:  and  it  is  distinguished  from  the  earlier  unreflecting 
reality-feeling,  which  is  the  simple  consciousness  of  a 
presence. 

Interest  and  Belief.  A  further  interesting  question  is 
the  relation  of  these  two  states,  considered  as  ideal  feelings, 
to  each  other.  Interest  is  the  feeling  of  an  impulse  to  attend 
aroused  by  an  object  ;  belief  is  the  feeling  of  the  presence 
of  an  object  fitted  to  satisfy  this  and  other  impulses. 
Interest  has  a  distinct  future  or  prospective  reference.  If 
my  future  were  forever  cut  off  from  an  object  my  interest 
in  it  would  die  away  as  soon  as  the  image  of  it  became  so 
faint  and  infrequent  as  not  to  arouse  a  strong  impulse. 
But,  however  thus  cut  off  in  the  future,  I  would  not  lose 
my  belief  in  such  an  object  :  for  the  memory-coefficient  of 
it  would  last  as  long  as  memory  itself,  and  with  it  tlie 
peculiar  coefficient  of  the  object's  own  reality.  Belief, 
therefore,  has  a  retrospective  reference.  Interest  must  be 
perpetually  renewed  by  new  impulse,  new  apperceptive 
activity  ;  belief  can  only  be  destroyed  by  experience  which 
compels  me  to  conclude  that  it  was  at  first  misplaced.  The 
points  of  similarity  between  the  two  feelings  are  that  they 
both  terminate  on  an  intellectual  object,  and  both  arise  in 
connection  with  an  impulsive  mental  outgo. 


SPECIAL  IDEAL  FEELINGS. 
QUALITY,  OR  KINDS:  AMOTIONS, 


CHAPTER  XX. 
DIVISION :  PRESENTATIVE  EMOTIONS.* 

§  1.  Division. 

General  Nature  and  Characters.  Special  ideal  feelings 
or  emotions  have  already  been  given  their  place  among  the 
phenomena  of  sensibility.  They  are  the  feelings  which 
arise  in  connection  with  different  phases  of  intellectual 
activity,  as  far  as  these  feelings  stand  clearly  distinguished 
in  consciousness  from  one  another.  They  are  qualitatively 
different  (hope  and  fear,  for  example),  as  sensations  (sound, 
taste)  are  qualitatively  different. 

Besides  distinctions  of  quality  among  emotions  we  are 
able  also  to  predicate  of  them  quantity  (or  intensity),  dura- 
tion (time  relations),  and  tone  (pleasure  and  pain),  reaching 
the  same  four  characters  which  we  found  to  be  present  in 
sensations.'^ 

Kinds.  Upon  examination  states  of  ideal  sensibility 
fall  into  two  classes,  which  may  be  called  respectively 
emotions  of  activity  and  emotions  of  content ;  i.  e.,  first, 
feelings  of  the  operation  of  the  apperceptive  function  with- 
out reference  to  what  it  operates  upon  ;  and  second,  feel- 
ings  excited  by   the   particular  object   upon    which    the 

'  Cf.  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  11.  chap.  vill. 
'  Above,  p.  85. 

I%6 


EMOTIONS  OF  ACTIVITY.  267 

intellect  operates.     These  classes  of  ideal  feeling  suggest 
themselves  for  separate  treatment. 

§  2.  Emotions  of  Activity. 

It  has  already  been  seen  that  all  mental  activities  reside, 
that  all  apperceptive  processes  happen,  in  the  attention  ; 
hence  the  great  class  of  emotions  of  activity  cluster  round 
the  different  phases  of  the  attentive  life.  These  feelings 
again  fall  into  two  classes,  which  we  may  call  feelings  of 
degree  of  adjustment  and  feelings  of  function,  or  activity 
proper. 

Emotions  of  Adjustment.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  get 
these  feelings  experimentally.  Attention  to  successive 
stimuli — say  sounds — following  one  another  in  very  rapid 
succession  soon  grows  painful  as  a  feeling  of  distraction 
or  confusion.  The  attention  cannot  adjust  and  readjust 
itself  in  time  to  bring  order  into  its  stimulations.  On  the 
contrary,  when  there  is  an  even-measured  flow  in  the 
appeals  to  which  the  attention  is  open,  we  have  a  class  of 
feelings  of  abstraction  or  clearness.  Again,  a  stimulus 
may  be  so  slight,  vague,  dim  as  to  lead  to  violent  con- 
centration upon  it,  giving  feelings  of  contraction  or  effort  ; 
and  again,  we  often  have  the  consciousness  of  unusual 
breadth  of  view,  comprehensiveness  of  range,  expansion  or 
ease. 

Emotions  of  Function.  Although  the  line  of  distinc- 
tion is  inexact  this  class  of  emotions  is  conveniently 
separated  from  the  foregoing.  'J'hey  are  feelings  of  the 
apperceptive  process,  as  far  as  it  is  felt  in  operation  ;  still, 
however,  apart  from  the  nature  of  the  particular  object  of 
its  operation.  The  going  out  of  the  attention  may  be  felt 
as  freshness,  triumph,  eagerness,  alertness,  hope,  courage, 
aspiration,  elation  ;  or  as  hesitation,  hidecision,  anxiety, 
timidity,  melancholy,  irritation,  fear.  The  former  of 
these  classes  may  be  known  in  general  as  emotions  of 
exaltatio?i,  and  the  latter  as  emotions  of  de2)ression. 


26S  DIVISION:  PUESENTATIVE  EMOTIONS. 

§  3.  Emotions  of  Content,  ^.  e.,  having  Reference  to 
Objects. 

Perhaps  the  most  convenient,  as  the  most  evident, 
division  of  these  emotions  is  based  upon  distinctions 
among  their  objects,  as  regards  the  kind  of  belief-coeffi- 
cient which  they  involve. 

Proceeding  on  this  plan  we  may  diX'&imgm^h  presentative 
from  relational  emotions,  and  under  the  presentative  order 
we  find,  first,  a  great  class  which  refer  exclusively  to  self, 
terminate  on  the  ego  ;  for  example,  pride.  These  we  may 
call  se//*-e motions,  after  analogy  with  tlie  more  affective 
kinds  of  sensation,  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  have 
most  direct  value  as  reflecting  the  subjective  side  of  sense 
experience.  Another  class  under  the  presentative  type 
depend  upon  the  relation  of  the  object  of  the  emotion 
to  one's  self,  as  fear,  etc.  These  we  may  call  objective 
emotions,  after  analogy  with  the  knowledge  element  in 
sensation.  Relational  emotions,  on  the  other  hand,  termi- 
nate upon  objects  which  have  certain  complexities  in 
themselves  apart  from  their  connection  with  the  individ- 
ual. The  presentative  emotions  carry  belief  in  the  sensa- 
tional or  memory  coefficient  ;  the  relational,  in  the  logical 
coefficient. 

Further,  under  the  objective  emotions,  we  may  dis- 
tinguish the  expressive  from  the  sympathetic.  The  former 
indicate  a  reaction  in  consciousness  outward  as  an  expres- 
sion of  personal  feeling  ;  and  the  latter  indicate  a  similar 
reaction,  which  is  now  sufficiently  described  by  the  term 
"  sympathy."  Again,  feelings  of  relation  fall  into  so-called 
logical  and  conceptual  feelings. 

The  divisions  thus  indicated  may  be  presented  to  the 
eye  in  the  following  table  : 

Presentative  {  ^^^J^.j;^,     j  Expressive 
„,,.      ,         Logical        (Sympathetic 
Relational      |  Conceptual 


Emotions  of 
Content 


SELF.EMOTIONS.  269 

§  4.  Self-emotions. 

The  emotions  which  terminate  on  one's  self  must  be 
clearly  distinguished  from  the  feeling  proper  of  self.  The 
feeling  of  self  underlies  all  other  forms  of  consciousness 
when  self-consciousness  has  once  arisen.  Assuming  this  to 
be  so,  whatever  self  may  be,  we  find  that  the  contemplation 
of  self,  when  it  becomes  the  object  of  our  reflection, 
arouses  certain  spontaneous  and  peculiar  forms  of  emotional 
excitement.     These  are  the  emotions  of  self. 

Such  emotions  attend  either  an  exalted  estimate  of 
one's  own  person  or  possessions,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
depreciatory  estimate.  The  former  we  may  call  emotions  of 
pride,  and  the  latter  emotions  of  humility.  Looked  at 
casually,  emotions  of  pride  include  the  states  ordinarily 
called  pride,  vanity,  haughtiness,  conceit,  superiority,  com- 
placency, arrogaiice,  self -confidence,  forwardness,  etc.;  and 
under  emotions  of  humilit}^  we  have  humility,  modesty, 
self  debasement,  self -distrust,  inferiority,  bashfulness,  mean- 
7iess  of  spirit,  iceakness,  poverty,  shame,  etc. 

In  different  individuals  these  emotions  have  habitual 
stimulation  in  very  varying  circumstances.  One  vain- 
glorious mortal  dwells  always  upon  his  past  exploits  ; 
another,  on  the  mighty  deeds  he  is  going  to  perform.  One 
humble  spirit  bears  always  in  mind  the  weakness  of  his 
earlier  or  present  endeavors  ;  another  lives  in  constant 
dread  that  an  occasion  will  arise  in  which  his  real  short- 
comings will  become  evident.  Moreover,  besides  the  com- 
mon object,  of  them  all,  self,  viewed  in  a  narrow  sense, 
these  emotions  attach  very  broadly  to  anything  in  which 
one's  interest  is  wrapped  up,  or  for  which  he  is  in  any  way 
responsible.  Without  discussing  the  question  as  to  whether 
the  extent  of  these  feelings  justifies  our  extending  the  notion 
of  self  to  include  all  the  objective  personal  interests  of  the 
man,  it  is  still  true  that  his  self-feelings  overflow,  as  ITume 
maintained,  and  attach  themselves  to  all  objects  with  which 


270  DIVISION:   PRESENTATIVE  EMOTIONS. 

he  is  closely  and  habitually  associated.  A  man  grows 
proud  of  his  college,  his  boarding  house,  even  of  the  valor 
of  his  enemies  ;  ashamed  of  his  associates,  of  the  shabby 
dress  of  his  grocer,  of  the  venality  of  his  political  adver- 
saries. Give  me  a  real  interest  in  anything  whatever  and 
it  becomes  mine  in  an  emotional  sense  :  its  fate  affects  me 
in  the  same  way,  though  not  to  the  same  degree,  as  a  sim- 
ilar fate  to  myself. 

§  5.  Objective  Emotions. 
The  objective  emotions  are  so  called  to  indicate  that  they 
arise  in  the  presence  of  an  object ;  as  feelings  they  are 
subjective  states,  but  they  arise  as  differentiated  qualitative 
states  ;  and  this  differentiation  seems  to  depend  in  some 
way  upon  the  relation  of  self  to  the  objects  which  excite 
them  respectively.  But  the  idea  of  self,  as  itself  an  object 
presented  in  relation  to  the  thing  on  which  the  emotion 
terminates,  is  not  necessarily  present.  Children  show  fear, 
anger,  etc.,  before  they  have  the  notion  of  self.  The  ob- 
ject of  the  emotion  does  sustain  a  relation  in  adult  con- 
ception to  self,  and  the  emotion  which  is  purely  instinctive 
(presentative)  at  first,  thus  becomes  reasonable  (represen- 
tative). But  the  fact  that  the  same  emotion  may  not  have 
a  conscious  self-reference  shows  that  such  a  reference  is 
not  one  of  its  essential  conditions. 

§  6.  Expressive  Emotions. 
These  emotions,  further,  find  their  place  in  the  reactive 
consciousness,  as  both  the  study  of  children  and  adult 
reflection  teach  us.  They  rise  in  child  life  before  volition 
becomes  prominent.  Consequently  the  phrase  expressive 
emotion  serves  best  to  distinguish  them.  They  are  an 
expression  of  the  reaction  or  behavior  of  consciousness 
when  given  objects  are  presented.  They  represent  the 
reactive,  outgoing  side  of  consciousness,  as  the  affective 
emotions  or  feelings  of  self  represent  the  receptive  or 
reflective  sicle. 


EMOTIONS  OF  ATTRACTION.  271 

Looked  at  from  this  point  of  view,  emotions  rest  upon 
impulses,  and  exhibit  the  two  great  directions  which  appear 
in  impulse,  i.  e.,  toward  or  from  an  object  as  fitted  to 
satisfy,  or  the  contrar3\  Careful  distinction  in  terminology 
— more  careful  and  exact,  no  doubt,  than  the  facts  warrant 
— gives  over  the  active,  impelling  factor  in  a  state  of  higli 
emotion  to  impulse,  and  reserves  for  emotion  only  the 
mental  excitement,  agitation,  felt  disturbance  of  conscious- 
ness. This,  at  any  rate,  serves  to  cover  both  aspects  of 
tlie  case,  and  gives  us  a  terminology  which  may  be  consist- 
ently maintained. 

Having  in  view,  therefore,  the  direction  of  the  impulses 
which  the  expressive  emotions  accompany,  we  may  dis- 
tinguish emotions  of  attraction  from  emotions  of  repidsion. 

Emotions  of  Attraction.  Under  the  general  head  of 
attraction  we  may  include  all  tendencies  toward  an  object 
or  individual,  or  satisfaction  in  its  presence,  from  the 
slight  feeling  of  approval  to  the  boisterous  expression  of 
social  enjoyment,  or  to  the  quieter  but  stronger  movings  of 
affection  and  love.  And  the  progress  of  this  emotion  in 
degree  and  closeness  of  attachment  is  an  interesting  and 
typical  chapter  in  the  natural  history  of  feeling. 

Beginning  with  interest— the  emotion  of  simple  atten- 
tion— an  object  becomes  attractive  as  it  comes  into  clear 
relation  with  one's  self.  Both  simple  association,  by  the 
egoistic  reference  already  remarked  upon,  and  increasing 
knowledge  of  attractive  qualities  in  the  thing  in  question, 
tend  to  increase  its  attracting  force.  Further,  any  effort 
which  may  have  been  put  forth  in  connection  with  such  an 
object  increases  its  hold  upon  us,  and,  by  strengthening  our 
interest,  makes  its  presence  a  matter  of  need. 

In  this  increased  attractiv^eness  of  an  object,  however,  we 
discriminate  clearly  between  persons  and  things.  Famili- 
arity with  things  always  leads  to  attachment  to  them  simply 
by  association  and  interest.  If  the  thing  is  useful  we  be- 
come further  attached  to  it  ;  if  it  turn  out  useless  we  simply 


272  DIVISION:  PRE8ENTATIVE  EMOTIONS. 

neglect  it ;  but  it  still  has  its  place  in  its  interesting  environ- 
ment. But  tilings  never  arouse  in  us  the  opposite,  repellant 
emotion,  except  by  some  kind  of  association  with  persons. 

In  the  case  of  persons,  on  the  other  hand,  the  simple 
attachment  which  now  becomes,  in  its  earliest  form,  admi- 
ration, passes  over  on  further  acquaintance  with  the  object 
into  a  more  positive  and  vigorous  emotion.  Strengthen  the 
ties  of  association  and  self-relation  (kinship,  partnership, 
etc.)  sufficiently  and  the  emotion  of  attachment  becomes 
affection  and  love.  There  is  a  line  in  the  growth  of  the 
emotion  of  attraction  beyond  which  all  revelations  of  char- 
acter or  action,  however  damaging,  only  deepen  and 
strengthen  the  earlier  tie.  But  if  this  line  has  not  already 
been  reached  when  damaging  discoveries  are  made — if  the 
attractive  emotion  has  only  reached  the  stage  of  admiration 
arising  from  intellectual  interest  and  casual  association — 
then  there  comes  a  revulsion  to  emotion  of  repulsion. 

Around  these  three  stages  in  the  growth  of  emotions  of 
attraction  the  varieties  of  such  feelings  may  be  grouped. 
Admiration,  the  feeling  of  deep  interest  in  persons,  is 
veneration  when  its  object  is  elderly,  superior,  or  of  high 
rank ;  aioe  when  it  is  obscurely  grand  and  imposing. 
Attachment,  the  feeling  of  close  association  with  and  de- 
pendence upon  persons  and  things,  has  distinct  colorings, 
when  felt  toward  inanimate  objects,  animals,  inferior  or 
superior  persons,  etc.  Affection,  the  feeling  of  profound 
attraction  toward  persons,  arising  from  the  deejier  ties  of 
family  or  common  life  interests,  parallel  opinions  and  aims, 
or  congenial  dispositions,  takes  on  innumerable  forms  known 
by  name  as  distinct  emotions  :  feelings  of  confidence, 
patience,  security,  help,  congratidation,  self -surrender,  self- 
denial,  tenderness — in  short,  all  the  infinite  emotional  phases, 
of  past,  present,  and  future  reference,  which  poets  have 
sung  and  \vomen  have  felt  since  one  human  heart  first 
learned  to  enlarge  its  borders  to  include  another. 
'  All  such  feelings  of  attractiv  eness  take  on  peculiar  (juali- 


EMOTIONS  OF  BEPULSION.  273 

ties  wlieii  tlieir  objects  are  matters  of  future  or  of  past  time. 
The  belief-coeflicient  may  be  a  representative  in  distinction 
from  tlie  sensational  (presentative)  one,  carrying  the  force 
of  the  future  on  the  one  hand  and  of  memory  on  the  other  : 
these  emotions  are  tlien  called  Ao^^e  and  joy  respectively. 

Emotions  of  Repulsion.  The  repelling  impulses  also 
supply  us  with  a  group  of  emotions  of  enormous  range  and 
importance.  What  has  been  said  about  the  development 
of  the  feeling  of  attraction  applies  with  some  modification 
to  this  class  also.  Simple  interest  and  some  knowledge  are 
necessary  to  induce  the  feeling  of  unattractiveness  in  tlie 
first  instance  ;  it  grows  to  be  objection ablen ess  in  tilings 
(mainly)  or  persons.  The  feelings  toward  things  do  not 
pass  into  stronger  emotion  except  througli  association  wn'th 
persons.  But  with  persons  it  passes  into  distaste,  a  posi- 
tive feeling  which  becomes  intense  in  abhorrence.  At  any 
stage,  except  that  of  extreme  repulsion,  an  attracting  mo- 
tive— kinship,  pride,  intellectual  admiration,  etc. — may 
assert  itself  so  strongly  as  to  cause  a  revulsion  of  feeling 
over  to  the  attractive  side  :  and  attachments  thus  formed 
are  often  most  lasting  and  intense. 

Many  modifications  of  the  so-called  feeling  of  objection- 
ableness  might  be  mentioned  :  feelings  of  inferiority,  of 
jyoor  breeding,  of  bad  faith,  dishdn,  distrust,  etc.  So  ])osi- 
tive  distaste  may  take  form  as  impatience,  scorn,  rebellion, 
impertinence,  malice,  vengeance,  present  fear,  anger,  hatred, 
etc.  And  abhorrence  has  varieties  in  detestation,  contemp)t, 
disgust,  loathing,  etc. 

All  the  emotions  of  this  class  also  get  generalized  under 
coefficients  of  future  and  memory  reality  respectively,  and 
become  the  opposites  of  hope  and  joy,  ^.  e.,fear  (or,  more 
properly,  dread)  and  sorron^. 

§  7.  Sympathetic  Emotions. 

The  second  division  of  presentative  emotions  has  been 
called  sympathetic.     The  word  "  sympathy,"  in  ordinary' 


274  DIVISION:  PBE8ENTATIVE  EMOTIONS. 

usage,  signifies  the  emotion  wliicli  is  called  out  by  the  in- 
telligence of  such  good  or  bad  fortune  to  others  as  sustains 
no  immediate  connection  with  our  own. 

An  adequate  psychological  analysis  of  the  conditions  of 
sympathy  seems  to  yield  the  following  results: 

1.  It  is  aroused  by  states  clearly  pleasurable  or  painful. 
There  is  no  occasion  for  sympathy  with  one  who  does  not 
need  it  ;  ^  that  is,  with  one  who  is  not  in  a  state  of  positive 
feeling,  good  or  bad.  Further,  the  study  of  the  first  sym- 
pathies of  children  shows  that  they  extend  to  things  as 
well  as  to  persons,  and  only  gradually  get  narrowed  down 
to  objects  which  feel.  Sympathy  as  an  emotion  is  shown 
before  the  child  makes  any  distinction  between  things  that 
feel  and  those  that  do  not.'*  But  whatever  the  object  be, 
the  emotion  is  called  forth  only  by  such  happenings  as 
have  before  excited  the  child's  own  feelings  of  pleasure  or 
pain. 

2.  Some  degree  of  interest  is  necessary  to  sympathy. 
The  confirmation  of  this  appears  broadly  in  everyday  ex- 
perience. I  read  in  the  morning  paper  that  thousands  of 
people  perish  in  a  Chinese  flood,  and  the  cup  of  coffee  that 
follows  it  up  is  much  more  important  to  me  than  their 
bereaved  families.  But  a  single  death  in  my  own  com- 
munity makes  me  at  once  solicitous  in  reference  to  the 
deceased  man's  relatives.  Yet  mere  exploring  interest, 
when  it  comes  upon  suffering,  always  starts  the  sym- 
pathetic feeling. 

3.  My  sympathy  is  In  a  rough  lo ay  proportionate  to  the 
nearness  of  the  individuaV s  connection  with  myself .  This, 
again,  needs  no  detailed  proof  :  if  my  brother  breaks  his 
leg  I  feel  more  sympathy  than  if  a  casual  comrade  meets 

'  Only  the  painful  causes  of  sympathy  will  be  considered  in  detail: 
this  accords  with  the  popular  usage.  The  same  considerations  apply, 
however,  to  the  pleasurable  exercise  of  sympatliy, 

'^  Darwin  observed  sympathy  in  his  child  six  months  and  eleveu 
days  Q\(X.—Mind,  ii.  p.  389, 


DEFIXITIO^  OF  SYMPATHY.  275 

the  same  misfortune  :  and  the  difference  is  greater  still  if 
the  latter  be  a  favorite  horse. 

4.  Sympathy  is  aroused,  not  merely  hy  real  beings,  hut 
by  any  idea  of  suffering.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we  be- 
lieve in  the  object  of  our  sympathies.  Pictures  in  memory 
Avin  our  sympathy,  imaginations  in  fiction  arouse  it,  vague 
forebodings  of  misfortune  to  others  excite  it.  Whenever 
there  arises  in  consciousness  an  idea  of  a  conscious  creature 
— be  he  fact,  memory,  fancy,  illusion,  reality  in  any  of  its 
kinds,  that  is,  be  he  a  possibility  in  any  form — his  fortune 
as  suffering  or  enjoying  moves  our  sympath}^. 

This  is  true  in  spite  of  our  efforts — often  successful  as 
they  are — to  suppress  sympathetic  emotion  by  dwelling 
upon  the  unreality  or  ill  desert  of  the  subject  of  it.  "  Little 
Dorrit"  will  move  some  readers  in  spite  of  their  sense  that 
the  character  is  fictitious.  We  all  feel  the  stirrings  of 
fellow-feeling  for  the  condemned  criminal,  even  though  we 
be  convinced  of  the  justice  of  his  sentence.  In  cases  in 
which  we  do  suppress  the  emotion  it  is  by  getting  rid  of 
the  idea,  turning  the  attention  to  something  else,  exciting 
some  new  interest,  that  we  do  it  ;  not  by  depriving  the 
subject  in  question,  the  idea  of  suffering,  of  its  force  to 
affect  us. 

Deflnition  of  Sympathy.  It  is  plain,  if  these  points  be 
true,  that  sympathy  is  an  emotion  aroused  by  any  presen- 
tation lohich  suggests  suffering. 

In  this  definition  several  further  considerations  are  in- 
volved. By  the  use  of  the  word  "  suggestion  "  an  im- 
portant distinction  is  intended  between  the  object  on  which 
SNnnpathy  terminates  and  that  by  which  it  is  caused.  A 
suggestion  is  a  stimulating  idea  which  is  brought  into  con- 
sciousness from  without,  or  comes  by  an  association,  in 
such  a  way  that  it  does  not  belong  in  the  course  of  my  real 
life.  A  suggested  pain,  for  example,  is  a  pain  which  I  am 
led  to  think  of,  but  which  I  am  not  really  suffering.  Sug- 
gested suffering  has  not  the  present  coefficient  of  pain,  but 


276  DIVISION:  PRESENTATIVE  EMOTIONS. 

only  a  remembered  coefficient  of  pain.  Suggested  suf- 
fering, therefore,  is  the  idea  of  pain  as  far  as  it  differs 
in  consciousness  from  the  actual  pain  of  the  experience 
presented. 

But  the  question  arises  :  Does  such  a  suggestion  excite 
sympathy  ?  Suppose  a  cruel  father  who  punishes  his  child 
hy  pinching  ;  the  presentation  of  the  father  may  suggest 
pain  to  the  child  ;  but  this  does  not  seem  to  be  sympathy 
— it  may  be  fear,  or  memory  of  pain.  Yet,  on  looking 
closer  and  observing  children,  we  find  that  if  the  father 
take  the  attitude  which  the  pain  before  accompanied,  real 
sympathy  is  excited.  Let  him  pinch  a  piece  of  wood, 
paper,  even  his  own  finger,  and  the  child  a  year  old  gives 
clear  expression  to  its  sympathetic  emotion.  The  child 
does  not  need  the  notion  of  another  person  who  suffers,  nor 
even  of  another  object  that  suffers  ;  he  only  needs  two 
things  :  first,  a  presentation  which  suggests  vivid  pain, 
and  second,  the  absence  of  the  coefficient  of  reality  which 
his  own  suffering  had.  In  other  words,  the  emotion  of 
sympathy  does  not  require  an  object  at  all.  It  acquires 
an  object,  and  then  maintains  itself  by  the  emphasis  of  this 
object  ;  but  in  the  first  place  it  attaches  to  any  convenient 
presentation  in  close  connection  with  its  exciting  cause. 

Kinds  of  Sympathetic  Suggestion.  We  may  sympa- 
thize, therefore,  without  sympathizing  with  anything,  and 
at  first  this  is  the  experience  of  the  young  child.  But  its 
sympathy  gets  an  object,  and,  by  getting  it,  develops  and 
maintains  itself.  The  fact  that  the  suggesting  presenta- 
tion is  generally  the  same  as  the  suffering  creature  tends  to 
give  stability  to  the  object  of  the  emotion.  Tlien  there 
arises  the  apprehension  of  the  physical  signs  of  suffering, 
for  which  the  child  inherits  in  some  few  instances  a  direct 
susceptibility  ;  and  these  carry  the  objective  reference  of 
the  sympathies  over  to  themselves.  Indeed,  it  is  probable 
that  the  first  suofsjestions  of  sufferino^  come  from  the  facial 
and  vocal  expressions  of  others,     Imitation  also  leads  to 


BETELOP^tEKT  OF  SYMPATHT.  277 

the  cojwing  of  the  movements  of  emotional  expression  of 
others,  and  tliis  reacts  to  suggest  the  appropriate  emotions 
in  tlie  child  liimself. 

Development  of  Sympathy.  The  rise  of  sympathetic 
emotion  may  be  described  in  view  of  the  foregoing.  Con- 
sidering only  the  feeling  elements,  in  the  light  of  what  has 
been  said  of  the  intellectual  conditions  of  each,  we  may 
distinguish  three  stages  in  this  development,  ^^  e.,  affect, 
interest,  concern.  The  effect  we  understand  to  be  a  simple 
present  state  of  feeling  considered  as  having  motive  force  : 
say  a  present  pain.  Affects  become  strongly  associated 
with  presentations,  and  this  association  is  a  process  occur- 
ring in  the  attention  ;  the  exercise  of  the  attention,  then, 
excites  interest.  Interest,  further,  as  far  as  it  arises  in  con- 
nection with  pleasures  and  pains  remembered,  introduces 
concern,  i.  e.,  sj^mpathy  become  definite  as  terminating  on 
a  distinct  personal  object. 

Altruistic  Element  in  Sympathy.  The  much  discussed 
question  of  egoism  vs.  altruism  in  the  sympathetic  emotion 
may  receive  partial  consideration  here.  If  it  be  true  that 
suggested  suffering  excites  s^^mpathy,  and  that  it  is  only 
suggested  suffering  that  excites  it,  namely,  suffering  not 
felt  to  be  present  as  real  suffering  is,  and  for  that  reason 
attributed,  when  knowledge  is  sufficiently  advanced,  to 
someone  else — then  we  must  believe  that  sympathy  is  not 
entirely  egoistic.  Suggested  suffering  is  at  first  neither 
egoistic  nor  altruistic,  because  neither  the  ego  nor  the  alter 
exists  in  consciousness  when  sympathy  at  first  arises.  The 
reference  of  real  pain  to  self,  and  of  suggested  pain  to  an- 
other, seem  to  be  both  late  acquirements.  But  as  it  is  true 
that  the  child  gets  his  external  objects  clearly  presented — 
especially  his  external  personal  objects — before  he  clearly 
presents  himself,  so  sj'inpathy  must  be  a  conscious  emo- 
tional motive  before  self-seeking  is. 

Varieties  of  Sympathetic  Emotion.  A  large  number 
of  varieties  or  shades  of  emotion  may  be  classed  as  sympa- 


278  DIVISION:  PRESENTATtVE  E^^0TI0^'^8. 

thetic,  i.  e.,  kindness,  be)ievole?ice,  cliarltahleness,  etc.  Wlien 
felt  toward  an  equal  in  character  or  station  we  call  it  con- 
gratulation, felloio -feeling,  felloic-suffering,  companionship, 
common  well  or  ill  desert,  solicitude,  heartache  ;  toward  an 
inferior,  compassion,  pity,  mercy  ;  toward  one  much  su- 
perior it  approaches  awe,  but  differs  from  it  in  an  un- 
n  am  able  way. 

Social  Feeling.  The  further  generalization  of  the  idea 
of  personality  to  which  developed  sympathy  attaches  gives 
the  emotion  a  broader  reference.  Social  feeling  is  sympa- 
thetic emotion  as  it  attaches  to  man  in  general.  It  can 
only  arise  after  the  conception  of  man  is  reached,  of  man 
as  a  multiplication  of  particular  men  like  myself.  As  long 
as  men  were  not  considered  all  *'  like  myself,"  but  some 
slaves,  some  barbarians,  some  Gentiles — only  a  few  Greeks 
or  Hebrews — social  feeling  had  only  the  range  of  the  class 
or  race  in  the  midst  of  which  it  arose.  Particular  forms 
are  feelings  of  equality,  justice  and  injustice,  rights,  po- 
litical and  patriotic  feelings,  etc.  Also  under  tliis  head 
should  be  included  feelings  of  rivcdry,  emulation,  jealousy, 
ambition,  competition,  love  of  fame  or  reputation,  sensi- 
tiveness— all  the  emotions,  in  fact,  w^hich  arise  from  the 
association  of  man  with  man  in  social  life.  Intense  pleasure 
and  pain  both  tend,  it  may  also  be  remarked,  to  sociability 
and  communicativeness. 

§  8.  Repeesextative  Emotions. 

Presentative  pass  over  into  representative  emotions  when 
the  object  is  itself  representative,  ^.  e.,  a  memory,  imagina- 
tion, reproduction  of  any  kind.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  here 
that  the  emotion  aroused  by  a  reproduction  is  the  same  as 
that  of  the  original  presentation  in  kind.  They  are  pre- 
vailingly, however,  of  much  lower  intensity.  The  time 
element  which  they  involve  also  gives  them  a  new  coloring  : 
the  joys  of  memor}^  are,  in  a  vague  way,  different  from  the 
joys  of  the  present  or  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION.' 

The  higher  reaches  of  apperception  in  conception, 
judgment,  and  thought  give  rise  also  to  characteristic 
emotional  states.  The  fundamental  act  of  attention  as 
relating  function  gives  most  general  coloring  to  this  class 
of  feelings,  and  from  it  they  also  derive  their  name,  rela- 
tional feelings. 

At  the  outset  three  very  distinct  kinds  of  emotional 
experience  may  be  distinguished  :  intellectual  or  logical 
feelings,  moral  or  feelings  of  right  and  wrong,  and  (Esthetic 
or  feelings  of  the  beautiful.  The  latter  two  may  be  further 
classed  as  conceptual  feelings. 

§  1.  Logical  Emotions. 

By  distinguishing  the  more  fundamental  emotions  of 
relation  as  logical,  we  intend  to  point  out  those  to  which 
the  coefficient  of  thought-belief  attaches  :  those  which  at- 
tend upon  the  various  acts  of  judgment.  First,  we  find  a 
class  of  feelings  arising  from  hare  relationship  as  itself  the 
object  of  consciousness,  i.  e.,  feelings  of  reasonableness  and 
nnreasonahleness,  of  contradiction,  oi  logical  satisfaction,  of 
tendencies  of  thought,  of  ignorance,  of  the  wiK'noici},  the 
mgsterioiis,  the  inscrutihle,  feelings  of  the  inconclusiveness 
of  argument^  of  the  hypothetical,  of  the  inconclusive,  etc. 
These  feelings  are  in  close  affinity  with  the  great  class- 
feelings  already  described  as  doubt  and  belief. 

Connected  with  time  relations  we  have  what  may  be 
called  time-emotions,  i.  e.,  a^iticijyation,  propthecy,  presenti- 
ment, hope,  attaching  to  the  conception  of  future  times  ; 

'  Cf.  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap,  ix. 

279 


2S0  EMOTIONS  OF  JIELATIOK 

retrospection^  reverie,  musing,  regret,  feeling  of  the  irremedi- 
able, of  opportunity  lost  or  improved,  attaching  to  the  con- 
ception of  the  past  ;  and  routine,  surp^rise,  amazement^  as- 
tonishment, present  opportunity^  hasty  decision,  attaching 
to  the  idea  of  the  immediate  present. 

Space  relations  also  are  reflected  in  emotional  states  : 
feelings  of  distance,  moral  remoteness  or  neatmess,  grandeur^ 
pettiness,  mental  vacancy,  besides  the  ordinary  sensuous 
feelings  of  spatial  relations. 

Other  relationships  give  us  feelings  of  coexistence  or  the 
contrary,  i.e.,  communion,  community,  compa7iy,  loneli- 
ness; of  quantity,  i.  e.,  importance,  insignificance,  greatness, 
abundance,  economy,  paucity  ^poverty,  completeness  and  in- 
completeness ;  of  identity,  i.  e.,  sameness,  resemblance,  dif- 
ference, contrast,  quality  ;  of  fitness,  i.  e.,  utility,  useless- 
ness,  adequacy,  insufficiency,  redundancy,  congruity  and 
incongruity,  suitableiiess,  adaptation,  means  and  end;  of 
objective  power,  i.  e.,  agency,  destructiveness,  might,  fearfid- 
ness. 

The  peculiarity  of  this  whole  class  consists  in  the 
conscious  explicitness  of  the  act  of  relating.  Judgment 
has  been  distinguished  from  conception  and  imagination 
by  this  very  feature.  Yet  as  there  is  every  degree  of 
progress  from  the  more  mechanical  union  of  factors  in  the 
pictures  of  passive  imagination  to  the  clear  consciousness 
of  relation  as  found  in  judgment,  so  these  feelings  vary  from 
a  most  to  a  least  degree  of  explicitness  in  this  respect. 
As  might  be  anticipated,  further,  there  is  a  class  of  emo- 
tions attaching  peculiarly  to  the  least  evident  degree  of 
relationship,  as  it  appears  in  the  apperceptive  process 
before  it  reaches  conscious  assertion  in  judgment.  These 
we  may  now  consider. 

§  2.  Conceptual   Emotions. 

The  progress  of  the  intellect  from  the  involuntary  com- 
binations of  fancy  to  the  free  constructions  of  imagination 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  IDEAS,  281 

aiul  conception  lias  alread}^  been  depicted.  This  progress 
is  a  matter  of  feeling  also — the  feeling  of  enlargement  of 
range,  emancipation,  constructive  capacit}^,  which  is  covered 
in  popular  language  by  the  phrase  getting  or  having  ideals. 
If  my  imagination  builds  up  for  me  something  more  pure 
and  satisfying  in  any  particular — form,  color,  use — I  say 
that  result  approaches  more  nearly  to  my  ideal  in  that 
direction.  If,  again,  I  set  myself  to  draw  up  a  system  of 
philosophy,  I  express  my  satisfaction  at  each  turn  of  its 
development  by  saying  it  tends  toward  my  ideal  of  a  sjs- 
tem  ;  and  I  reverence  a  character  more  because,  as  I  think, 
it  more  nearly  embodies  my  ideal  of  a  man.  So  in  all  con- 
struction whatever,  besides  the  feeling  of  the  extent  of 
actual  construction,  there  is  a  feeling  of  further  possible 
construction — construction  beyond  what  I  have  done,  yet 
in  the  line  of  what  I  have  done. 

§  3.  Construction  of  Ideals. 

The  process  of  constructive  imagination  has  been  de- 
scribed.' It  is  tlie  machinery  by  which  ideals  are  pro- 
duced. It  is  only  necessary  here  to  give  the  elements 
before  pointed  out  their  proper  place  in  the  scheme  of 
feelings. 

The  appetence  or  moving  force  which  impels  a  scientist 
or  artist  to  produce  is  the  impulsive  principle  of  need  now 
found  to  underlie  belief  and  action  in  general.  It  belongs 
among  the  higher  impulses  j^et  to  be  discussed.  Tlie 
artist's  intention  expresses  the  permanence  of  this  impulse 
and  its  exhaustive  range  over  the  material  available  to  him. 
He  selects  his  material  under  the  law  of  voluntary  interest. 
What  constitutes  the  fitness  of  his  material  is  the  problem 
of  what  ideals  are,  and  it  is  that  aspect  of  the  case  to  which 
we  must  now  turn. 

Nature  of  Ideals.  What  are  ideals  ?  AVhat  is  art  from 
the  spectator's  point  of  view?  Evidentl}^  ideals  are  some- 
thing felt  in  connection  with  present  images  ;  something, 
^  Above,  chap.  xiii.  §  4. 


282  tlMOTIONS  OF  BELATIOIT. 

that  is,  in  virtue  of  which  peculiar  feelings  arise  over  and 
above  the  simple  feelings  of  apprehension.  In  other  words, 
conceptions  of  the  kind  produced  under  the  lead  of  the 
constructive  imagination  have  a  peculiar  quality,  which 
leads  us  to  pronounce  them  true,  beautiful,  or  good.  From 
the  essential  nature  of  conception  we  are  able  to  reach,  in 
a  general  way,  the  lines  within  which  this  quality  must  be 
sought. 

1.  Conception  proceeds  by  abstraction,  and  abstraction 
has  been  seen  to  be  the  mental  tendency  to  pursue  identities 
through  the  mazes  of  new  experience.  The  gratification  of 
this  pursuit  of  identities  arises  as  a  feeling  of  pleasure 
whenever  two  elements  of  experience  before  disparate  fall 
together  in  a  unity  or  common  meaning.  Without  such  a 
process  of  identifying,  with  its  accompanying  gratification, 
no  conception  whatever  can  take  place.  One  element  of 
conceptual  feeling,  therefore,  must  arise  from  abstraction, 
and  this  element  may  be  best  characterized  as  the  feeling 
of  unity  in  a  whole. 

2.  But  an  equally  important,  because  opposite,  aspect  of 
conception  is  generalization:  the  function  wherebv  a  con- 
cept gets  application  over  a  wider  area  of  experience  by  a 
modification  of  its  content.  In  abstraction  I  preserve  my 
concept  and  neglect  all  experience  which  does  not  illustrate 
it ;  in  generalization  I  accept  my  experience  and  modify 
my  concept  to  include  it.  It  is  a  mental  tendency  away 
from  identity  to  variety,  and  its  gratification  brings  another 
element  to  conceptual  feeling,  i.  e.,  the  feeling  of  harmony 
of  parts. 

3.  The  intension  or  depth  of  a  concept  begets  a  phase  of 
feeling  in  response  to  the  peculiar  value  of  it  in  experience, 
while  its  extension  excites  only  a  feeling  of  its  present 
accidental  application!.  Man  in  intension  excites  in  me  the 
sympathetic  and  social  feelings  ;  it  indicates  humanity  with 
the  living  thrill  of  interest  the  word  suggests  ;  but  man  in 
extension  simply  means  men,  anybody,  everybody,  common- 


FEELING   OF  FITSES.^  283 

place  and  uninteresting.  The  emotion  of  intension  let  us 
call  the  feeling  for  meaning^  a  third  essential  ingredient  in 
conceptual  emotion. 

By  meaning  we  mean  interesting  qualitj^,  recognizing  in 
the  word  all  the  springs  of  interest,  intellectual,  emotional, 
and  volitional,  already  discussed.  Our  ideals  are  the 
things  of  most  absorbing  interest  to  us. 

4.  Further  conceptions  are  objective  in  their  reference  ; 
they  arise  in  the  knowing  function.  Their  objectivity 
means  both  that  there  are  objective  relations  presented, 
but  that  these  relations  hold  for  others  no  less  than  for 
myself.  Both  these  aspects  may  be  covered  by  the  phrase 
feeling  of  iiniversality  :  a  fourth  ingredient  in  conceptual 
feeling. 

Ideals,  therefore,  are  the  forms  which  ice  feel  our  concep- 
tions would  take  if  ice  icere  able  to  realize  in  them  a  satis- 
fying degree  of  unity,  harmony,  signifcance,  and  univer- 
sality. The  first  two  properties  we  may  call  ideal 
form,  the  third,  ideal  meaning,  and  the  fourth,  ideal  va- 
lidity. 

Peeling  of  Fitness.  "We  are  now  able  to  give  more 
exact  definition  to  the  state  of  consciousness  before  desig- 
nated as  feeling  of  fitness.  It  attaches  to  certain  images 
of  imagination  which  are  available  for  conceptual  construc- 
tion :  namely,  to  those  which  tend  to  take  form  in  ideals. 
It  indicates  promise  of  progressive  idealization  under  some 
or  all  of  the  rubrics  pointed  out  above.  But  it  precedes 
actual  construction,  since  ideals  are  not  positive  construc- 
tions. If  conception  follows,  then  the  feeling  of  fitness 
either  becomes  simple  feeling  of  logical  relation  or  it  at- 
taches in  turn  to  the  new  product  as  far  as  it  is  felt  to  be 
fit  for  further  ideal  construction.  For  example,  I  feel  that 
each  fact  discovered  in  nature  or  the  laboratory  must  fit 
in  a  construction  of  all  similar  facts  called  a  law  ;  but 
when  this  law,  now  a  vague  felt  ideal,  is  itself  discovered, 
then  my  feeling  of  fitness  attaches  to  it  only  as  it  in  turn 


284  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATIOK. 

serves  as  an  element  of  a  still  broader  ideal  of  systeniatic 
science. 

§  4.  Range  and  .  Kinds  of  Conceptual  Feeling. 

The  various  ideals  to  wbicli  we  find  ourselves  committed 
with  greater  or  less  emotion  may  be  classed  under  throe 
heads,  according  to  tbe  classes  of  data  which  are  felt  to  be 
fit.  First,  we  appreciate  logical  fitness  by  what  we  may 
call  feelings  of  the  systematization  of  truth.  Again,  we 
have  ideals  of  character,  feelings  for  the  good,  or  ethical 
feHings.  And  third,  we  grope- after  ideals  of  beauty  :  we 
have  (Esthetic  feelings.     These  may  be  considered  in  turn. 

§  5.  Feeling  foe  System  in  Mental   Constkuction. 

Scientific  and  Philosophical  System.  The  exercise  of 
the  scientific  imagination  is  accompanied  by  the  scientific 
ideal,  and  its  materials  are  selected  as  fit  to  realize  this 
ideal.  Of  all  conceptual  ideals  the  scientific  is  most  plain. 
Here  the  criteria  of  unity  and  variety  have  almost  exclu- 
sive  voice,  and  apply  throughout  all  the  kinds  of  relation 
which  arise  in  the  process  of  judging.  The  ideal  is  com- 
plete unity  of  conception  in  the  infinite  variety  of  objec- 
tive fact,  and  each  new  generalization  in  any  science,  as 
chemistry,  biology,  psycholog}^,  is  in  so  far  gratifying  as  a 
partial  realization  of  it.  And  the  pursuit  of  philosophy 
attains  its  gratification  in  the  same  endeavor  after  unity 
of  conception. 

§  6.  Ethical  Feeling. 

Its  Coeflacient.  Assuming  that  the  moral  feelings 
accompan}^  the  process  of  conception,  we  may  ask  after 
their  peculiarities.  What  is  their  general  nature,  and  to 
what  kind  of  experiences  do  they  attach  ?  Using  the 
words  good  and  bad  to  express  what  we  mean  by  moral 
approval  and  disapproval,  we  may  examine  consciousness 
to  find  their  application.     The  moral  coefficient  is  that  in 


MORAL   QUALITY.  285 

experience  which  leads  us  to  attach  to  it  the  predicates 
good  and  bad  ;  it  may  be  called,  for  the  present,  moral 
quality. 

Moral  Quality.  A  rough  generalization  easily  leads  to 
the  conclusion  that  good  and  bad,  in  their  moral  signifi- 
cance, attach  onl}^  to  possible  actions.  If  I  say  a  man  has  a 
bad  character  I  mean  that  he  is  capable  of  bad  conduct. 
If  I  say  a  knife  is  good  I  mean  simply  that  it  is  useful  ; 
not  that  it  is  moral  at  all.  But  not  all  actions  are  moral. 
Some  actions  are  forced.  I  may  be  driven  to  perform  an  act 
against  ray  will.  This  is  not  moral.  So  we  reach  a  further 
point,  i.  e.,  moral  actions  must  be  voluntary  acts,  or  acts  of 
will,  whatever  will  may  turn  out  to  be.  Further,  not  all 
voluntary  actions  are  moral.  I  may  dine  at  two  o'clock 
or  at  six  ;  I  may  take  my  walk  north  or  south  :  these 
actions  are  morally  indifferent.  What  further  peculiarity 
attaches  to  some  acts  of  will,  whereby  we  call  them  good 
or  bad? 

A  reference  to  the  general  psychology  of  conceptual 
feeling,  as  already  developed,  will  throw  light  upon  this 
point.  We  found  the  feeling  for  ideals  to  involve  in  its 
object  harmony,  meaning,  and  universality  ;  so,  if  the 
moral  feelings  are  rightly  classed  as  conceptual,  only  those 
states  of  will  which  fulfill  these  conditions  in  some  degree 
will  be  found  to  excite  moral  approval  or  disapproval. 

Moral  Quality  as  Harmony.  Acts  of  will  which  are 
moral  can  never  be  taken  out  of  their  environment  in  con- 
sciousness and  conduct,  and  pronounced  good  or  bad. 
Moral  actions  are  those  which  are  harmonious  with  each 
other  in  reference  to  an  ideal.  A  morally  indifferent  act 
is  an  act  which  stands  alone,  which  is  of  no  value  to  any- 
body except  the  doer,  and  of  no  value  in  the  complex  acts 
which  make  up  the  doer's  conduct.  The  reason  that  my 
dinner  hour  is  indifferent  is  that  it  has  no  value  to  anyone 
but  myself,  and  none  to  myself  except  my  convenience. 
As  soon  as  it  does  become  a  matter  of  health  to  me,  or 


286  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION. 

comfort  to  anyone  else,  i.  6.,  gets  a  setting  of  relations  more 
or  less  conscious,  it  does  become  moral.  Moral  quality, 
therefore,  attaches  to  an  act  of  will  considered  as  an  ele- 
ment in  a  complex  of  interests,  my  own  and  those  of  others. 
Moral  predicates  attach  to  certain  felt  possibilities  of  conduct 
considered  in  relation  to  all  other  possibilities  of  conduct. 

Moral  Quality  as  Universal.  The  univei-sality  of  ethical 
feeling  arises  in  consciousness  in  tw^o  new  and  distinct 
forms.  Not  only  is  morality  objective  in  the  sense  that 
others  are  held  by  me  to  the  judgments  that  I  myself  make  : 
the  universality  of  truth  in  general,  but  the  existence  and 
claims  of  others  enter  as  factors  in  the  content  of  the  feel- 
ing for  myself.  The  feeling  of  syynpathy  is  one  of  the 
elements  whose  satisfaction  this  moral  satisfaction  as  a 
whole  must  include.  And  further,  simple  disinterestedness, 
as  all  conceptual  feeling  involves  it — value  apart  from  gain 
or  loss  to  myself — does  not  here  suffice  ;  but  the  feeling  of 
restraint,  constraint,  ohligation  takes  its  place.  These  two 
factors  may  be  considered  further. 

Moral  Sympathy.  Moral  sympathy  attaches  exclusively 
to  the  idea  of  persons,  and  carries  with  it  the  notion  of 
self.  The  idea  of  suffering  which  was  found  sufficient  for 
sympathy  as  an  expressive  emotion  now  gains  its  full  per- 
sonal reference.  This  feeling  may  be  described  as  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  equality  of  individuals  in  reference  to 
ideal  good. 

Moral  Authority :  Feeling  of  Obligation/  The  second 
aspect  of  moral  universality  is  the  feeling  of  ohligation.,  or 
of  subjection  to  moral  authority.  As  already  said,  it  is  a 
consciousness  of  both  restraint  and  constraint.  It  is  further 
felt  to  be  from  within,  i.  e.,  not  to  have  any  assignable 
cause  outside  of  consciousness.  It  restrains  from  one  course 
of  conduct  and  constrains  to  another.  It  does  not  enter 
simply  as  a  possible  alternative  which  I  may  or  may  not 

>  Cf.  wliat  is  said  on  the  feeling  of  responsibility  below,  chap, 
xxvii.  g  4. 


FEELING   OF  OBLIGATION.  287 

embrace,  which  may  be  neglected  or  not  as  I  please  ;  but  it 
has  an  additional  element  of  feeling,  the  feeling  covered  by 
the  word  ought.  I  may  go  to  a  lecture  or  not  ;  I  ought  to 
help  my  poor  neighbor.  This  is  ordinarily  called  the  im- 
perative  aspect  of  ethical  feeling. 

Moral  authority  is  the  feeling  that  a  peculiar  worth  at- 
taches to  certain  motives  or  ends  in  relation  to  other  motives 
or  ends.  This  worth  is  further  not  merely  a  recognized 
worth  in  view  of  an  ideal,  but  a  worth  felt  to  be  imperative 
upon  my  free  choice.  In  other  words,  the  sense  of  moral 
authority  may  be  defined,  at  the  present  stage  of  our 
inquiry,  as  2l  feeling  of  an  iniperatwe  to  the  will  to  the  free 
choice  of  a  moral  end. 

Upon  this  determination  certain  remarks  may  be  ven- 
tured. First,  the  imperative  of  the  feeling  of  obligation  is 
an  unconditional  imperative.  While  it  is  true  that  it  arises 
only  in  connection  with  alternative  courses  of  action,  yet 
when  once  arisen  it  is,  as  an  ought-feeling,  quite  inde- 
pendent of  such  connections  and  conditions.  This  Kant 
has  emphasized  by  the  phrase  "categorical  imperative." 
Second,  the  feeling  of  freedom  is  still  present  before  alter- 
natives, even  when  the  moral  imperative  is  clearly  attached 
to  one  of  them.  Though  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  pursue  a 
certain  course,  still  I  feel  free  to  disregard  my  own  moral 
injunction  and  pursue  a  different  course.  Third,  that  the 
ought-feeling  is  alwaj^s  relative  to  an  ideal  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that  the  same  course  of  conduct  is  at  one  time  right, 
at  another  wrong  or  indifferent.  The  moralit}",  therefore, 
as  already  said,  covers  the  harmony  of  all  possibilities  with 
reference  to  an  ideal.  And  fourth,  moral  feeling  always 
attaches  to  the  concrete,  to  particular  acts  of  will.  We 
have  no  general  feeling  of  right  or  wrong.  AVe  may  vainly 
attempt  to  depict  the  moral  ideal  as  an  abstract  ideal,  and 
through  it  to  arrive  at  the  sense  of  rio^lit  in  the  abstract : 
but  moral  decisions,  as  such,  are  always  decisions  on  actual 
concrete  possibilities  of  action. 


288  .  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION. 

G-round  of  Moral  Authority.  The  further  question, 
therefore,  arises  :  How  can  such  a  principle  of  the  activity 
of  will  get  its  application  to  concrete  courses  of  conduct  ? 
Why  are  not  all  acts  of  will  included,  i.  e.,  why  are  they 
not  all  moral?  The  following  answer  may  be  suggested 
without  further  remark,  i.  e.,  the  determination  as  to  what 
conduct  in  the  concrete  is  morally  imperative  takes  place 
by  a  reaction  of  consciousness  upon  a  group  of  alternatives 
in  such  a  way  that  these  alternatives  are  arranged  in  a 
scale  of  values  with  reference  to  the  moral  ideal  and  to 
one  another,  the  highest  value  being  approved  as  relatively 
right,  and  the  others  disapproved  as  relatively  wrong. 

In  this  position,  it  is  seen,  the  determination  of  an  act  as 
right  or  wrong  is  a  relative  determination — a  determination 
of  the  adjustment  of  particular  alternatives  to  each  other  as 
regards  worth  for  an  ideal.  In  other  words,  the  particu- 
lars are  the  material  of  different  degrees  of  fitness  for  a 
generalization.  That  generalization — could  we  make  it — 
would  be  the  moral  ideal,  and  the  peculiar  feeling  of 
approval  or  disapproval  of  the  most  fit  in  possible  conduct 
carries  with  it  also  the  feeling  of  oughtness.  The  conclu- 
sion on  moral  authority  is,  therefore,  that  it  is  psycholog- 
ically "  ultimate  and  unanalyzable." 

Conclusion  on  Moral  Coefacient.  In  regard  to  the  sub- 
jective side  of  moral  quality — the  conscious  feeling  of  the 
presence  of  the  right  or  wrong — we  are  now  able  to  speak 
more  definitely  ;  and  we  may  conclude,  in  conformity  with 
what  has  already  been  said,  that  the  moral  coefficient  is 
the  feeling  of  an  attitude  of  the  will  toward  or  from  one  of 
alternative  courses  of  conduct  as  relatively  fit  or  unfit  for 
construction  in  a  moral  ideal.  And  this  fitness  is,  as  far  as 
can  be  discovered  :  first,  the  degree  in  which  a  course  of 
conduct  is  felt  to  harmonize  with  most  interests,  to  be 
approved  by  others  as  well  as  by  myself,  and  to  be  impera- 
tive, though  not  executive,  upon  my  choice. 

Tiie  moral  coefficient  is  thus  seen  to  have  two  sides,  a 


THE  ETHICAL  END.  289 

^dhjective  and  an  objective  side.  Subjectively  it  is  an 
approving  attitude  of  will  with  felt  obligation,  all  that  is 
meant  by  the  word  ought ;  objectively  it  is  harmony  and 
universality,  what  is  meant  by  the  word  right.  About  the 
ought  the  above  is  all  that  we  have  to  say  ;  it  is  an  ulti- 
mate category  of  feeling,  whatever  its  origin  may  have 
been.  As  to  the  right,  certain  rules  of  conduct  are  usually 
formulated,  which  find  their  highest  expression  in  the 
Christian  principle  of  Love. 

Moral  Ideal :  the  Ethical  End.  Of  the  elements  found 
necessary  to  ideals  generally,  that  is,  necessary  to  con- 
ceptual feeling,  meaning  was  included  no  less  than  harmony 
and  universality.  Having  now  looked  at  the  elements  of 
harmony  and  universality  involved  in  ethical  feeling,  it 
remains  to  consider  the  element  of  meaning.  To  draw 
again  a  distinction  already  made,  not  the  spectator's  point 
of  view  alone  must  be  considered,  but  the  composer's,  the 
constructing  agent's  ;  in  this  case,  the  doer's  point  of  view. 
If  I  would  do  right  what  kind  of  a  pattern  or  end  do  I  set 
mj'self  ? 

Notion  of  End.  An  end  is  that  which  I  consciously  pre- 
sent to  myself  for  possible  pursuit.  It  must  be  clearly 
distinguished  from  motives,  which  are  any  influences  what- 
ever that  may  come  to  bear  on  the  will,  whether  they  be 
consciously  presented  or  not.  Only  some  motives  are  ends. 
Further,  an  end  does  not  alwaj'S  carry  the  presentation  of 
self  ;  a  child  has  an  end  when  it  imitates  the  movements  of 
its  nurse,  before  it  gives  evidence  of  reflection  upon  its  own 
mental  states.  Consequenth^  there  may  be  more  than  one 
end  in  consciousness  at  once  ;  which  means  that  the  end 
is  distinct  from  volition.  Volition  is  the  choice  of  a 
particular  end. 

Subjective  vs.  Objective  Ends.  In  saying  that  an  end 
must  be  consciously  presented  it  is  further  meant  to  ex- 
clude organic  and  biological  results  which  seem  to  us  to  be 
due  to  presentation  or  purpose.     The  physical  organism 


290  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION. 

is  full  of  adaptations  all  supposed  to  minister  to  the  greatest 
pleasure  and  to  produce  the  least  pain.  Yet  pleasure  and 
pain  are  not  necessarily  the  ends  of  our  voluntary  physical 
activities.  In  order  to  become  subjective  ends  they  must 
be  pictured  as  the  objects  of  the  voluntary  process ; 
otherwise,  being  organic,  they  are  a  form  of  objective 
end. 

Doctrine  of  Ethical  Ideal  or  End.  If  what  has  been  said 
about  moral  quality  and  authority  be  true  the  doctrine  of 
the  end  is  plain.  The  rightness  of  an  act  is  only  arrived 
at  in  the  concrete,  ^.  e.,  in  relation  to  other  acts.  What  I 
ought  to  do,  therefore, — the  content  of  my  choice, — is  rela- 
tive. The  form,  i.  e.,  that  I  ought  to  do  right,  is  always 
the  same  no  matter  what  the  act  be.  It  is  a  "  universal 
imperative."  The  form  cannot  be  the  end  ;  that  would  be 
tautology,  ^.  6.,  I  ought  to  do  what  I  ought.  But  an  ade- 
quate statement  of  the  content  as  universal  end  demands  a 
perfect  generalization  of  all  possible  concrete  choices, 
which  is  impossible.  Hence  there  is  no  universal  subjective 
end.  My  ethical  consciousness  tells  me  universally  that  I 
ought  to  do  right,  but  it  does  not  tell  me  universally  what 
I  ought  to  do,  to  do  right.  In  every  dilemma  I  may  be  in 
it  is  a  question  as  to  lohat,  which  I  ought  to  choose  ;  not 
whether  I  ought  after  I  have  chosen. 

It  follows  from  a  sufficient  understanding  of  the  nature 
of  conceptual  feeling  that  all  statements  of  the  ethical 
ideal  must  be  inadequate.  Fitness  for  an  end  cannot  mean 
adequate  embodiment  of  that  end  ;  no  one's  alternatives  of 
conduct  can  cover  the  whole  of  the  possible  fields  of  ad- 
justment of  wills  to  one  another  in  a  developing  social 
organism.  The  ethical  ideal,  therefore,  as  far  as  it  is  con- 
scious, is  ^Ae  degree  of  harmony  and  universality  in  conduct 
which  I  find  my  emotional  nature  responding  to  with  im- 
perative urgency.  As  an  ideal  it  is  relative  and  changing 
in  the  life  of  the  individual  and  of  the  race  ;  yet  that  em- 
bo4inient  of  it  to  which  the  individual  or  the  race  at  any 


RULES  OF  CONDUCT.  291 

time  responds  is  of  absolute  and  unequivocal  validity  then 
and  there. 

The  highest  embodiment  of  the  ethical  ideal  is  the  con- 
ception of  the  character  of  God.  This  does  not  give  a 
statement  of  the  ethical  ideal,  however,  for  the  conception 
of  God  as  a  perfect  being  is  of  a  character  which  realizes 
our  moral  predicates  to  perfection,  and  as  such  shifts  with 
our  development  and  that  of  the  race.  Instead  of  the  end 
consisting  in  our  conception  of  God's  character,  the  reverse 
is  true.  God's  character  to  us  results  from  our  conception 
of  tlie  moral  end. 

Rules  of  Conduct.  There  are,  therefore,  valid  rules  of 
conduct  which  are  imperative  upon  the  individual,  not  be- 
cause they  are  universal  statements  of  the  ideal,  but  be- 
cause they  generalize  our  concrete  intuitions  of  the  right. 
They  are  the  objective  side  of  the  moral  coefficient.  The 
worth  of  each  of  them,  however,  in  any  case,  depends  upon 
its  support  from  the  moral  consciousness  in  that  particular 
case.  Such  principles  are  veracity,  temperance,  prudence, 
mercy,  forgiveness,  etc.  These  rules  are  absolutely  bind- 
ing wherever  the  moral  consciousness  gives  them  an  appli- 
cation ;  but  they  are  not  applied  by  the  moral  conscious- 
ness universal^.  For  instance,  veracity  is  sometimes  sub- 
ordinated to  a  higher  demand  of  ethical  feeling,  such  as 
loyalty,  humanity,  or  charity. 

Conscience.  In  the  word  conscience  the  ethical  con- 
sciousness has  its  broadest  characterization.  Conscience 
may  mean  and  does  mean  three  very  distinct  things — three 
things,  however,  so  essentially  one  as  a  mental  fact  that  the 
use  of  a  single  word  to  cover  them  has  its  full  justification. 
If  we  cut  the  mental  life  right  through  at  the  moment  of 
positive  ethical  feeling,  getting  a  section  of  the  mental 
stream,  so  to  speak,  showing  all  there  is  at  that  moment, 
this  section  is  conscience.  The  tllree  portions  of  the  section 
correspond  to  the  three  determinations  we  have  already 
made,  i.  e.,  moral  quality^  moral  aiithoriti/^  and  moral  ideal, 


292  EMOTIONS   OF  RELATION. 

Let  us  take  a  concrete  case  of  action  from  conscience  :  I 
give  money  to  a  beggar  because  I  am  bound  by  conscience  to 
do  so.  The  moral  quality  of  my  act  is  my  feeling  of  its  har- 
mony with  my  better  acts  as  a  whole,  and  the  exaction  I 
make  upon  other  men  to  be  charitable  also  ;  without  this 
conscience  would  be  wanting — the  act  would  be  indifferent. 
The  moral  authority  of  the  act  is  the  feeling  which  at  once 
arises  that  this  quality  has  an  immediate  reference  to  my 
will.  I  am  bound  to  choose  it  as  my  act ;  without  tliis 
there  is  no  conscience — conscience. is  dead.  The  moral  ideal 
is  the  outreach  of  my  feeling  toward  a  state  of  will  in  which 
such  a  relative  and  hesitating  decision  would  yield  to  clearer 
and  more  direct  moral  vision  ;  a  state  of  will  which  I  can- 
not picture,  cannot  conceive,  but  which  I  feel  my  will  is 
meant  for,  and  for  which  my  present  act  for  conscience' 
sake  is  the  only  means  to  prepare  me. 

Consequently,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  individual 
consciousness,  conscience  is  a  spontaneous  authoritative  re- 
action of  approval  or  disapproval  of  one  of  alternative  ends, 
as  of  higher  relative  excellence  vnth  reference  to  an  ideal  un- 
seen hut  imperatively  enjoined. 

Emotions  Akin  to  the  Moral.  Around  the  fundamental 
moral  emotions  cluster  a  number  of  more  special  and 
complex  feelings.  Moral  approval  and  disapproval  of 
others  in  different  degrees  becomes  vc\oy2\  praise  and  blame, 
moral  respect  and  contempt,  moral  reverence  and  disgust: 
applied  to  self  they  are  feelings  of  good  conscience  and 
remorse,  moral  hope  and  despair.  These  latter  take  on 
peculiar  forms  when  complicated  with  the  knowledge  that 
others  know  and  judge  our  case,  i.  e.,  moral  pride  and 
shame.  These  two  feelings  are  the  most  powerful  and 
lasting  of  our  moral  nature,  as  witness  the  aggravated 
punishment  of  the  "Brand  of  Cain"  and  the  "Scarlet 
Letter."  They  bring  all  the  motive  and  emotional  force  of 
the  sympathetic  nature  to  reinforce  the  intrinsic  sanctions 
of  dutv.     Other  forms  of  the  ethical  emotion  whose  factors 


u^STHETIC  FEELING.  293 

suggest  tliemselves  readily  are  repentance.,  moral  penance, 
moral  restitution  ;  and  moral  cowardice  and  hesitation,  on 
one  hand,  contrasted  with  moral  courage  and  resolution  on 
the  other.  The  great  class  of  religious  feelings  are  also 
most  closely  connected  with  ethical  emotion  and  rest  upon 
it. 

§  7.  Esthetic  Feeling. 

In  beauty,  the  elements  of  what  we  call  the  ideal  seem 
at  the  outset  to  be  most  fully  set  forth.  The  simplest 
observation  of  beautiful  things  suffices  to  illustrate  the 
necessity  of  both  unity  and  variety  in  form.  There  is  no 
beauty  when  unity  is  absolute,  and  it  is  only  when  arrange- 
ment is  possible  to  a  degree  which  allows  a  distinction 
between  variety  which  is  yet  unity,  which  has  a  plan,  and 
variety  which  is  multiplicity,  which  has  no  plan — that  an}'' 
such  feeling  arises  at  all.  It  is  equally  evident,  also,  that 
moaning,  significance,  contributes  to  aesthetic  effect.  The 
beauty  of  a  landscape  is  cold  and  formal  until  the  smoke  of 
a  peasant's  hut,  or  the  spire  of  a  country  church,  is  added 
to  give  it  a  touch  of  human  interest.  The  village  green 
has  more  meaning  than  snow-clad  Alps.  And,  further,  we 
feel  the  essential  sharableness,  universality,  validity  of  all 
beauty.  I  expect  a  face  to  appeal  to  you  as  it  appeals  to 
me. 

While  all  beauty,  thus,  has  the  ideal  character,  and  is  for 
that  reason  conceptual,  yet  it  is  well  to  distinguish  two 
kinds  of  aesthetic  emotion  :  that  which  attaches  to  more 
sensuous  experience,  and  is  almost  exclusively /b?';>?a/,  and 
that  which  attaches  to  more  representative  experiences,  as 
having  meaning.  Following  Wundt,  the  former  may  be 
called  loirer  and  the  latter  /i/^/Z^e?*  aesthetic  feeling. 

I.  Lower  Esthetic  Peeling.  It  is  difficult  to  determine 
when  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  begins  in  child  life.  The 
expression  of  such  a  sense  is  for  a  long  time  simply  the 
ordinary   expression  of   pleasure — smile,  active   muscular 


294  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION. 

movements,  etc. ;  and  the  presumption  is  tliat  simple  pleasure 
is  all  there  is  to  express.  Yet,  by  inquiring  into  the  effects 
upon  the  child  of  objects  otherwise  indifferent,  expressions 
due  to  form  alone  may  be  isolated. 

The  objective  character  of  aesthetic  impressions  leads  us 
to  look  upon  sight  and  hearing,  the  most  presentative 
senses,  as  the  exclusive  organs  of  sensuous  beauty.  The 
objective  form  of  sounds  is  time,  and  those  of  sight  are 
time  and  space.  The  formal  element,  therefore,  in  all 
aesthetic  feeling  is  unity  and  variety  in  time  and  space 
relations.  ~ 

Further,  in  both  time  and  space  a  distinction  may  be 
made,  with  Hodgson,  between  static  and  dynamic  relations. 
Sounds  which  occur  simultaneously,  and  spatial  relations 
which  are  perceived,  to  be  stationary,  are  called  static  ; 
sounds  following  one  another,  and  space  relations  which 
change  through  physical  movement,  are  dynamic.  The 
ordinary  words  for  these  tw^o  qualities  are  repose  and 
movement. 

As  regards  time  relations  music  is  the  purest  and  most 
adequate  illustration.  In  the  chord  the  static  qualit}^  is 
illustrated.  The  variety  of  auxiliary  tones  is  held  in  a 
unity  dominated  by  the  fundamental.  The  single  tone  in 
ordinary  instruments  is,  further,  a  static  effect,  since  in  it 
there  is  also  a  variety  of  secondary  or  over-tones  which 
give  to  it  its  peculiar  timbre.  In  general,  musical  harmony 
is  the  static  form  of  the  a3sthetics  of  time.  The  dynamic 
element  in  the  aesthetic  feeling  of  time  relations  is  pre- 
sented by  rliythm,  complex  transitions,  beat,  measure, 
movement.  It  presents  the  formation  and  resolution  of 
harmonies  in  a  series  of  effects,  which  are  united  in  the 
flow  of  the  composition  as  a  whole  or  of  portions  of  it. 
This  dynamic  aspect  of  the  case  is  knowm  in  music  as 
melody. 

In  regard  to  relations  of  space  the  distinction  between 
static  and  dynamic,  between  rest  and  movement,  is  equally 


LOWER  ESTHETIC  FEELING.  2^5 

plain.  Architectural  beauty  illustrates  the  former  ;  beauty 
of  wheels  in  motion,  birds  in  flight,  the  intricate  evolutions 
of  the  dance  and  the  drill  illustrate  the  latter.  Consider- 
ing the  static  quality,  the  question  arises  :  What  relations 
of  space  are  aesthetically  most  pleasing  ?  In  plane  figures 
richness  of  division,  together  with  evident  simplicity  of 
plan,  is  the  aesthetic  desideratum.  A  square  inscribed  in  a 
circle  is  more  pleasing  than  either  the  square  or  the  circle  ; 
but  two  overlapping  equilateral  triangles  in  a  circle  pre- 
sent still  greater  attractiveness.  Investigations  have  been 
made  into  the  most  tasteful  laws  of  longitudinal  and  ver- 
tical division.  For  the  best  effect  longitudinal  division 
should  be  either  perfect  symmetry  (bisection  about  a  ver- 
tical axis)  or  some  proportion  well  away  from  symmetry. 
Zeising's  principle,  called  the  "golden  section,"  is  that,  in 
horizontal  division,  the  longer  part  {b)  should  be  a  mean 
proportional  between  the  shorter  (c)  and  the  whole  (a), 
viz.,  the  proportion  a  :  b  : :  b  :  c  should  hold.  For  vertical 
lines  it  is  held  that  the  point  of  division  should  be  two- 
thirds  to  three-fourths  up  from  the  bottom,  or  the  same 
distance  down  from  the  top  :  as  the  arms  on  the  erect 
human  bod}^,  or  the  lowest  broad-spreading  boughs  of  the 
arbor  vitae.  The  quality  in  division  which  excites  aesthetic 
feeling  we  may  call  balance. 

As  regards  plan  the  question  is  largely  one  of  outline. 
If  the  divisions  are  pleasing,  in  what  kind  of  an  outline 
shall  the  lines  of  a  design  terminate  ?  TJie  attempt  has 
been  made,  and  probably  with  some  success,  to  connect  the 
pleasure  of  outlines  with  the  relative  ease  or  difliculty  of 
the  eye  movements  required  to  compass  the  figure  in  ques- 
tion. The  normal  movement  of  the  eye,  except  in  its 
vertical  and  horizontal  axis,  is  a  curve  of  gentle  and  some- 
what irregular  curvature.  Hence  the  general  principle 
that  curved  lines  present  a  more  pleasing  outline  to  the  eye 
than  extended  straight  lines.  And  variations  of  the  same 
principle  are,  that  curved  outlines  are  more  agreeable  when 


296  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATIONE 

the  law  of  curvature  changes  slightly  at  frequent  intervals  ; 
that  transitions  should  be  by  curves  rather  than  by  short 
turns  or  angles  ;  and  that  sudden  irregularities  are  allowable 
only  when  they  can  be  brought  under  a  regular  law  of 
recurrence,  ^.  e.,  reduced  to  tlie  general  plan  of  the  design 
as  a  whole.  Put  more  generally,  the  scheme  of  gesthetic 
form  for  the  eye  conforms  approximately  to  the  field  of 
vision.  The  ideal  of  form  is  indicated  b}^  tlie  most  facile 
and  pleasurable  adaptation  of  the  eye  at  once  to  detail, 
and,  by  easy  transition,  to  the  plan  as  a  whole.  The  erect 
human  form  has  been  considered  from  antiquity  the  su- 
preme illustration  of  beauty  of  form,  both  as  regards 
balance  and  outline. 

The  graphic  arts  and  sculpture,  called,  as  opposed  to 
music  and  architecture,  the  imitative  arts,  embody  ideals  of 
space  form.  They  are  imitative  only  in  the  sense  that  they 
represent  objects  taken  from  nature  ;  but  imitation  is  alto- 
gether subordinate,  as  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  only  such 
objects  in  nature  are  suited  to  the  purposes  of  art  which 
are  already  recognized  as  embodying  some  ideal.  A  painter 
paints  a  face  either  for  its  beautiful  form  or  its  beautiful 
meaning,  or  both  :  if  it  has  neither,  it  is  not  beautiful  as  a 
picture  of  a  face,  and  hence  is  not  aesthetic,  not  art.  Even 
a  portrait  must  idealize  somewhat  to  be  beautiful  and  satis- 
fying. 

Perspective  in  the  graphic  arts  is  the  reduction  of  space 
relations  of  depth  to  the  form  of  the  original  field  of  vision 
in  two  dimensions,  i.  e.,  to  a  flat  surface.  If  it  is  true  it  con- 
forms to  the  requirements  of  all  spatial  beaut}':  it  has  a 
visual  center  to  which  its  lines  of  direction  converge,  and 
if  there  be  two  or  more  of  these  centers  they  must  be  in 
turn  subordinate  to  yet  another. 

11.  Higher  Esthetic  Feeling.  We  now  come  to  consider 
beauty  apart  from  its  framework  of  sense-perception.  If 
space  and  time  relations  were  all  that  aesthetic  ideals  in- 
cluded, beauty  would  be  robbed  of  most  of  its  power  to 


EMOTIONS  ALLIED   TO   THE  ^ESTHETIC.         ^^1 

Influence  and  gladden  us.  It  is  the  meaning,  the  suggestive- 
ness  of  art  that  rouses  in  us  feelings  for  ideals.  This  mean- 
ing is  by  many  writers  simply  made  convertible  with  the 
associations  or  memories  w^iich  the  beautiful  object  calls  up. 
For  example,  a  building  becomes  beautiful  when  we  know 
that  it  is  a  hospital  for  sick  children.  The  knotted  hands 
of  a  workman  suggest  a  lifetime  of  privation,  toil,  and  de- 
votion, and  rouse  in  us  emotions  of  respect  and  admiration. 
Yet  even  in  cases  where  simple  association  is  most  con- 
spicuous the  suggestions  themselves  involve  ideals  and 
seem  to  bring  them  more  vividly  before  us.  The  sug- 
gested emotion  does  not  terminate  on  the  building,  but  on 
the  ideal  of  charity  w^liich  'it  represents  ;  not  on  the  phys- 
ical hands,  but  on  the  ideal  of  life  which  they  suggest. 
Association  is,  therefore,  not  the  whole  of  w^hat  we  intend 
by  the  word  meaning.  It  is  only  as  associations  themselves 
have  meaning  that  they  enter  into  the  meaning  of  present 
beauty. 

In  an  earlier  place  meaning  ^vas  connected  with  the  in- 
tension of  concepts.  Intension  includes  all  the  data  that 
we  have  about  objects.  But  we  have  more  data  about 
objects  than  their  simple  presentative  associates  ;  we  have 
also  the  feelings,  of  whatever  kind,  which  they  excite,  and 
the  motor  reactions  to  which  they  impel.  All  these  ele- 
ments must  enter  into  the  framework  of  aesthetic  emotion 
in  its  higher  forms,  i.  e!,  associative  connections,  emotional 
revivals,  volitional  and  ethical  reverberations.  And  all 
this  framework  must  be  conceived  as  representative  of  unity 
in  variety,  harmony,  universality,  in  a  particular  sphere. 
That  is,  higher  aesthetic  feeling  arises  only  by  the  tendency 
of  the  abstracting  and  generalizing  function  to  transcend 
its  immediate  presented  material.  The  complete  aesthetic 
coefficient,  like  the  ethical  end,  is  an  ideal  and  cannot  for 
that  very  reason  be  given  adequate  formulation. 

Emotions  Allied  to  the  Esthetic.  The  violation  of 
certain  elements  in  the  requirements  of  beauty,  w^hile  the 


298  EMOTIONS  OF  RELATION: 

other  elements  are  present,  gives  rise  to  distinct  emotions. 
In  the  comic  we  have  violations  of  the  law  of  consistency. 
The  comic  is  the  aesthetically  abortive.  A  joke  turns  on 
a  misplaced  grammatical  or  logical  relation,  whicli,  if 
properly  placed,  would  have  been  aesthetic.  A  comic  situa- 
tion is  an  incongruity,  where  the  conceptual  process 
demands  congruity  and  anticipates  it.  Hence  the  elements 
of  surprise,  disproportion,  and  disliarmony,  in  all  humor 
and  wit.  The  comic  is  a  matter  largely  of  meaning.  The 
grotesque,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  comic  of  form.  The 
picturesque  illustrates  a  similar  departure  from  normal 
beauty,  but  not  sufficiently  so  to  lead  to  positive  incon- 
sistency. It  applies  especially  to  form,  and  is  found  in  the 
bold,  sharp,  irregular,  unexpected  in  outline.  In  the 
sublime  the  meaning  attaches  to  particular  feelings,  those 
aroused  by  the  large,  massive,  forceful,  and  destructive  ;  it 
seems  also  to  include  a  coloring  of  fear  and  awe. 

§  8.  General  Table  of  Feelings. 
We  have  found  the  following  divisions  of  feeling  : 
Qualitative  Feelings 
Sensuous  Ideal 


Common       Special  Common  Special 

Organic,        Sensations         |  | 

etc.  Interest    Reality    Belief, 

etc. 


Emotions 


Of  Activity  Of  Content 


Of  Adjustment       Of  Function        Presentative    Relational 


Self  Objective 


Logical    Conceptual 


Expressive    Sympathetic 


Systematic    Ethical    Esthetic 
(Religious) 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

QUANTITY  AND  DURATION  OF  EMOTION.* 

§  1.  Quantity  or  Intensity. 

Mental  Excitement.  The  most  general  predicate  which 
we  can  make  of  the  states  of  feeling  arising  about  mental 
operations  is  expressed  by  the  term  excitement.  The  word 
means  stimulation,  and  as  physical  stimuli  bring  about  a 
more  or  less  diffused  physical  reaction  or  bodily  excitement, 
so  presentations,  ideas,  stimulate  higher  states  of  feeling 
in  forms  all  of  which  exliibit  the  diffused  property  called 
excitement.  If  we  picture  a  logical  machine,  with  no 
feeling  whatever,  turning  out  s^'llogisms,  we  picture  at  the 
same  time  the  absence  of  that  excitement  which  makes  the 
mind  in  its  logical  character  different  from  such  a  machine. 
"Coolness"  is  the  popular  word — "calmness"  is  more  fit- 
ting— to  denote  the  absence  of  emotional  excitement.  For 
the  present  we  will  consider  such  excitement  on  its  con- 
scious side,  and  call  it  mental,  leaving  the  question  of  its 
relation  to  nervous  diffusion  until  its  inner  aspects  have 
been  pointed  out. 

Relativity  of  Feeling.  The  general  nature  of  feeling,  as 
dependent  upon  physical  and  mental  processes,  accounts 
for  its  extreme  variability  in  different  and  in  the  same  cir- 
cumstances. If  feeling  arises  everywhere  in  consciousness 
the  present  state  of  feeling  must  result  from  a  great  com- 
plexity of  bodily  and  mental  conditions.  The  principle 
of  contrast  has  already  been  applied  to  the  phenomena 
of  sensation,^  and  its  application  to  emotional  states  is 
evident. 

'  Cf .  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap.  x. 

'  Above,  p.  85. 

S99 


300       qUANTITT  AND  DURATIOI{  OF  EMOTION. 

Emotional  Expression.  As  the  facts  of  hypnotism 
show,  tlie  emotions  belong  in  the  reactive  consciousness. 
As  forms  of  excitement  they  represent  conditions  of  intense 
stimulation,  and  find  their  physical  basis  in  processes  of 
pronounced  nervous  change.  As  excitement  simply,  apart 
from  qualitative  differences,  emotion  indicates  a  diffusive 
outgoing  wave  of  nervous  action  consequent  upon  height- 
ened processes  in  the  centers  of  the  brain.  Viewed  qualita- 
tively the  particular  emotions  are  correlated  to  nervous 
discharges  in  particular  directions  and  portions  of  the 
nervous  apparatus,  issuing  in  muscular  contractions  to  a 
large  degree  differentiated  and  peculiar.  Such  muscular 
indications  of  emotion  are  most  clearl}^  marked  in  tlie  face, 
though  the  more  intense  extend  to  the  limbs,  and  finally 
take  the  form  of  massive  and  convulsive  movements  of  the 
trunk.  So  familiar  are  we  with  these  forms  of  emotional 
expression,  and  so  expert  have  we  become  in  reading  them, 
both  from  experience  and  by  heredity,  that  our  responses 
to  them  are  instinctive.  Only  the  practiced  observer  is 
able  to  analyze  the  common  facial  indications  which  we  all 
readily  construe  in  terms  of  answering  emotion. 

A  good  deal  of  progress  has  been  made  by  psychologists 
in  assigning  to  the  different  emotions  their  peculiar  cor- 
relatives in  the  muscular  system.  In  general,  each  main 
emotion  expresses  itself,  not  by  the  contraction  of  a  single 
muscle,  but  of  a  co-ordinated  group  of  muscles.  The  smile 
or  weeping  of  an  infant  is,  at  the  start,  a  matter  of  very 
extended  muscular  innervation,  and  in  adult  life  the  entire 
countenance  seems  to  take  on  the  semblance  of  thought  or 
laughter,  and  to  support  the  brow  or  mouth  in  its  assump- 
tion of  the  leading  role.  The  general  facts  of  the  case, 
as  respects  the  leading  presentative  emotions,  are  readily 
observed  by  noting  others,  or  by  simulating  emotion  before 
a  mirror  ;  it  is  unnecessar}^  to  go  further  into  details  which 
are  endless  and  wearisome. 

The  hypnotic  state,  especially  the  condition  called  by 


PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  EMOTION.  301 

the  Paris  scliool  catalepsy,  affords  a  striking  method  of 
studying  expression.' 

The  fundamental  emotional  expressions  are  impulsive. 
The  child  inherits  the  necessary  vital  reactions  for  its  life 
and  growtli,  and,  besides  these,  certain  muscular  contrac- 
tions indicative  of  pleasure  and  pain,  joy  and  sorrow,  i.  e., 
smiling,  weeping,  crowing,  sobbing,  etc.  Very  early  more 
distinct  emotions  grow  up  wath  corresponding  ready 
formed  reactions — fear,  wonder,  anger,  love,  jealousy,  etc. 
It  is  probable,  from  what  we  know  of  mental  grow^th,  that 
the  rise  of  these  early  emotions  waits  upon  the  development 
of  their  appropriate  nervous  basis  :  which  means  also  that 
it  waits  upon  the  development  of  certain  cortical  centers. 
Such  general  emotional  expressions  are  either  elevating 
and  exciting,  or  depressing  and  inhibiting. 

Physical  Basis  of  Emotion.  Conceiving  the  problem  of 
expression  under  its  widest  reacli,  the  view  required  both 
by  the  physiology  of  the  nervous  system  and  by  the  facts 
of  consciousness  comes  plainly  out.  Let  us  call  the  aspect 
of  nervous  processes  which  belongs  peculiarly  to  emotional 
excitement  the  nervous  coefficient  of  emotion,  substituting 
this  phrase  for  the  question-begging  word  expression.  The 
question  then  is  :  In  what  kind  of  a  nervous  process  does 
this  coefficient  consist?  AYhat  nervous  process  varies — 
rises  and  falls,  grows  or  contracts  in  extent — with  corre- 
sponding variations  in  conscious  feeling  ? 

Now  in  the  general  conception  of  the  nervous  system 
stated  above,  we  found  that  personal  consciousness  was 
present  only  when  the  system  attained  high  integration. 
We  have  also  found  that  sensibility  is  only  another  name  for 
consciousness  :  intense  consciousness  is  intense  sensibility 
or  excitement.  Excitement,  therefore,  is  the  kind  of  con- 
sciousness which  arises  when  nervous  integration  is  intense, 
i.  e.f  very  complex  and  very  unstable.  This  is  the  nervous 
coefficient  of  emotion.  Emotional  expression  is,  then,  the 
^  Compare  Biuet  and  Fere,  A niimd  Magnetism,  p.  :iTT. 


302       QUANTITY  AND  DURATION  OF  EMOTION. 

outgoing  side  of  the  nervous  coefficient.  Complexit}^  at  the 
centers  means  diffusion  in  discharge  ;  instability  at  the 
centers  means  facility  of  discharge — just  the  two  character- 
istics of  emotional  expression. 

Conscious  Difiusion  of  Emotion.  The  element  of  dif- 
fusion already  pointed  out  in  the  nervous  basis  of  emotion  is 
a  marked  characteristic,  also,  of  mental  excitement.  Strong 
emotions  spread  themselves  out  over  the  whole  content  of 
consciousness,  and  our  thought  current  becomes  grave,  gay, 
elevated,  depressed  accordingly.  Not  only  so,  but  we 
objectify  our  feeling  to  an  extent.  The  external  Avorld 
takes  on  the  color  of  our  mood.  This  is  probably  due  to 
our  lack  of  control  over  strong  emotion  :  we  are  unable 
either  to  banish  it  or  to  pin  it  down  to  its  peculiar  object. 
It  is  also  especially  true  of  the  more  deep-seated  organic 
conditions  which  give  tone  to  consciousness  as  a  whole. 
Dysj^epsia  is  the  most  notorious  enemy  to  good  spirits. 

Emotion  and  Passion.'  Do  we  love  our  friends  when 
we  are  not  thinking  of  them  ?  The  answer  to  this  question 
introduces  us  to  the  great  class  of  facts  covered  by  tlie 
^\o\'di  p(issio7i.  By  passion  is  meant  the  growth  of  emotion 
in  depth  at  the  expense  of  expression.  What  we  have 
already  learned  of  physical  and  mental  habit  would  lead 
us  to  expect  a  consolidation  of  emotions  in  a  few  great 
habitual  forms  of  reaction  ;  for  this  is  what  we  find  both 
in  the  nervous  organism  and  in  the  intellectual  life.  Nerv- 
ous reactions  become  organized  in  subconscious  motor 
intuitions ;  mental  reactions  become  organized  in  percep- 
tions, subconscious  beliefs,  and  interests  :  so  emotions  take 
on  mentally  subconscious  forms.  They  become  so  habitual 
as  to  be  unremarked  except  when  some  new  occasion  calls 
them  out  in  the  shape  of  emotional  excitement.  A  man's 
love  for  his  fiancee  is  a  matter  of  constant  consciousness 
and  expression  ;    his  love  for  his  wife — it  takes  a  burning 

'  The  word  passion  corresponds  to  Kant's  Leidenschaft.  The  Gax- 
inaus  use  Afekt  to  cover  emotion  as  excitement. 


THEORIES  OF  EMOTION.  303 

house  or  a  drowning  accident  to  bring  fully  into  his  con- 
sciousness. Emotional  excitement,  however,  remains  the 
method  of  expression  of  passion,  and  in  popular  speech  the 
term  passion  is  given  to  such  violent  expressions  them- 
selves. The  real  passion,  however,  is  deep-seated  prevailing 
emotional  motive  ;  it  enters  profoundly  into  our  notion  of 
character. 

Among  the  most  marked  passions  some  are  clearly  in- 
herited, others  may  be  traced  in  their  development  from 
occasional  recurring  experiences  of  emotion.  The  most 
distinct  classes  of  passions  may  be  designated  affections 
and  sentiments.  Affections  arise  from  the  more  interested 
and  personal  classes  of  emotions  :  examples  are  sympathy, 
love,  contempt,  be?ievolence,  stoicism,  pessimism.  Senti- 
ments spring  rather  from  the  more  objective,  disinterested 
emotions  :  examples  are  reverence,  respect,  religious  or  irre- 
ligious attitudes,  love  of  beauty,  morality,  etc. 

Theories  of  Emotion.  Three  general  views  are  held  as 
to  the  nature  of  emotional  excitement  :  intellectual  theo- 
ries hold  that  all  feeling  is  ideal  feeling,  taking  its  rise 
from  the  relation  of  ideas  to  one  another  as  opposing  or 
reinforcing.  This  theory  fails  confessedly  to  account  for 
sensuous  feeling.  Physiological  theories  make  all  feel- 
ing sensuous  feeling  in  compounds  of  varying  degrees  of 
complexity.  Emotion  is  a  higher  form  of  organic  pleasure 
and  pain,  a  biological  function.  This  theory  fails  to 
account  for  higher  emotion,  or,  indeed,  for  feeling-qualities 
generally.  It  involves  a  doctrine  of  unity  of  composition 
throughout  the  entire  affective  life.  Original  theories  are 
opposed  to  these  in  holding,  in  some  form,  that  feeling- 
qualities  are  original  subjective  facts.  The  entire  forego- 
ing exposition  of  feeling  is  an  argument  for  the  "original" 
view. 

Reproduction  of  Emotion.  From  what  has  been  said  of 
the  conditions  of  the  rise  of  emotion,  the  laws  of  its  repro- 
duction are  evident.     If  emotion  is  present  onl^-  when  aij 


304       QUANTITY  AND  DURATION  OF  EMOTION. 

ideal  object  is  present,  and  if  an  ideal  object  is  present  only 
when  the  brain  conditions  of  earlier  sensation  are  reinstated, 
then  the  laws  of  association  of  ideas  with  their  basis  in 
dynamic  cerebral  processes  are  also  the  laws  of  the  revival 
of  emotional  excitement. 

In  conscionsness  the  dependence  of  revived  emotion  upon 
revived  ideas  has  the  same  evidence  as  that  of  first-hand 
emotion  upon  presentations,  ^.  e.,  the  evidence  of  invariable 
concomitance.  Among  these  ideas,  however,  we  find  re- 
membered muscular  and  organic  sensations.  I  may  repro- 
duce grief  either  by  recalling  a  grievous  event  or  by  throw- 
ing my  countenance  into  the  form  of  grief  expression.  If 
I  fail  to  get  one  of  these,  I  fail  to  reproduce  the  emotion. 

Further,  we  would  expect  the  suggested  emotion  to  vary 
as  one  or  another  coefficient  of  reality  attaches  to  tlie 
revived  experience.  When  an  evefit  is  remembered  and 
recognized  as  a  real  event  in  my  past  life,  the  emotion  it 
arouses  has  a  new  qualitj^  from  the  fact  of  its  present  real 
setting.  I  may  remember  my  past  object  of  wrath  witli 
present  gratitude  or  affection,  mj^  past  hopes  with  present 
regret,  my  past  fears  with  present  complacency.  Or  I  may 
voluntarily  banish  my  present  flow  of  thought,  reinstate  all 
the  conditions  of  the  first  experience,  and  thus  bring  back 
the  original  emotion.  In  case  of  the  memory  of  sensational 
experiences,  the  reality  feeling  is  much  stronger  and  the 
same  emotion  comes  back  with  more  or  less  force.  This  is 
because  the  object  is  in  these  cases  bound  more  closely  with 
my  own  feeling,  and  with  difficulty  put  in  a  new  emotionnl 
setting. 

As  far  as  the  same  emotion  is  revived,  it  is  not  siniph^  a 
picture  of  a  former  state,  but  a  real  state  of  feeling.  When 
I  remember  a  pain,  I  am  in  pain  ;  but  not  necessarily  in  the 
same  pain.  For  example,  I  remember  vividly  a  toothache, 
I  have  a  real  pain  at  present,  but  it  is  not  a  toothache.  By 
the  fact  of  memorv,  it  has  lost  its  sensational  coefficient, 
but  it  has  the  memor^^  coefficient,  and  is  real,     It  may  by 


TRANSFER   OF  EMOTION  BY  ASSOCIATION.      305 

its  intensity  become  a  real  toothache,  ^.  e.,  get  its  sensa- 
tional coefficient  again,  thus  becoming  an  illusion.  Tiie 
picturing  of  the  facial  elements  of  expression  is  the  most 
immediate  representative  means  of  awaking  similar  feelings 
— a  widening  of  tlie  fact  already  noted  of  the  emotion  of 
sympath}^ 

This  affords  an  explanation  of  what  is  known  as  the  con- 
tagion of  emotion  in  crowds,  and  on  a  broader  scale,  in  com- 
mon sentiments  in  communities  and  states.  In  a  crowd, 
fear  will  spread  witli  amazing  rapidity,  probably  by  the 
semi-unconscious  interpretation  of  muscular  and  vocal  ex- 
pression. So  the  styles  of  taste,  morality,  and  custom  are 
inhaled,  so  to  speak,  from  tlie  emotional  atmosphere  in 
which  we  live. 

Transfer  of  Emotion  by  Association.  It  is  a  matter  of 
clear  experience,  also,  that  emotional  excitement  gets  trans- 
ferred by  association  to  ideas  by  which  it  is  not  originally 
aroused.  The  color  black  has  become  doleful  and  sad  from 
mourning  associations,  tlie  sight  of  the  postman  in  the 
morning  brings  joyful  emotion  ;  in  fact,  interests  of  the 
deeper  kind,  as  has  been  already  remarked,  arise  from  the 
expenditure  of  emotion  or  action  upon  things  at  first  unin- 
teresting. The  whole  range  of  symbolism  aud  suggestive- 
ness  in  art  rests  upon  this  fact  of  accrued  feeling,  when  the 
ideas  from  which  it  has  accrued  have  become  vague  or  sub- 
conscious. 

Conflict  of  Emotions.  All  mental  conflicts  are  conflicts 
of  feeling.  So-called  conflicting  ideas  are  those  which  are 
felt  to  be  in  conflict,  ^.  e.,  those  which  introduce  conflict 
into  the  life  of  feeling.  So  the  much  talked  of  conflict  of 
feeling  and  reason  is  purely  a  conflict  of  feelings.  Reason 
here  means  the  moving  aspect  of  thought,  the  strength  of 
truth  in  setting  the  subject  into  action.  I  might  apprehend 
a  truth  clearly  and  yet  find  no  conflict  between  it  and  my 
life  which  denies  it.  It  is  only  as  it  moves  me,  as  I  have  an 
emotion  for  it,  that  it  makes  a  conflict  for  supremacy.     But 


306       QUANTITY  AND  DURATION  OF  EMOTION. 

emotional  conflicts  are  real  and  tragic,  especially  when  tbey 
play  around  questions  of  duty.  And  it  is  the  degree  of 
persistence  and  strength  of  the  underlying  ideas  that  gives 
and  takes  the  victory.  Emotional  conflicts,  therefore,  indi- 
cate the  hold  that  various  kinds  of  truths  have  upon  the 
agent.  One  man  surrenders  to  the  sensational  coefiicient: 
tlie  sensuous  ;  another  gets  an  easy  victory  for  the  distant 
and  ideal  ;  while  a  third  lives  a  life  of  irresolution  or  deci- 
sion according  to  the  accidental  appeals  of  one  truth  or 
another. 

§  2.  Duration  of  Emotion. 

It  is,  of  course,  only  a  truism  to  say  that  emotions  last 
only  as  long  as  their  causes  last,  but  the  twofold  basis, 
physical  and  intellectual,  of  emotion  gives  the  truism  some 
special  bearings.  Cases  are  recorded  of  the  absence  of  the 
intellectual  object  and  the  continuance  of  the  emotion,  its 
expression  being  obtrusive  and  vehement.  It  is  less  fre- 
quent, but  real,  also,  that  emotional  expression  may  be 
apparently  lacking,  as  in  intense  aesthetic,  ethical,  and 
spiritual  feeling. 

Emotional  Cessation  and  Relief.  It  follow^s  also,  from 
the  foregoing,  that  relief  from  emotion  may  be  artificially 
courted.  Indulgence  in  strong  outbursts  of  feeling  tends 
to  allay  their  causes  ;  it  exhausts  the  nervous  processes 
involved  and  induces  other  emotions.  Knocking  a  man 
down  satisfies  my  feeling  of  vengeance  more  from  the  new 
emotion  of  justice  or  honor  vindicated  than  front  nervous 
expenditure  ;  but  both  satisfactions  are  real.  Relief  by 
nervous  expenditure  follows,  especially,  in  cases  of  emotion 
which  excite  to  action.  It  is  always  a  relief  to  have  done 
something  in  an  enjotional  emergency  whether  it  be  suc- 
cessful and  wise  or  not. 

Again,  there  is  a  great  class  of  emotions  which  sharing 
tends  to  relieve.  Novelists  make  much  of  the  smoldering 
piQtlf  in  the  growth  of  feeling.    The  immediate  ef  ect  of 


EMOTIONAL   CESSATION  AND  RELIEF.  307 

sharing  a  personal  emotion  is  to  temper  it  by  the  sense  of 
sympathy  and  social  community.  Psychologically,  several 
elements  enter  in  this  sense  of  relief  :  a  feeling  arises  that 
the  friend  confided  in  justifies  and  defends  the  emotion  ; 
also,  a  feeling  that  help  and  support  are  secured.  And 
there  is  further  relief  by  the  cessation  of  the  feeling  of 
isolation  and  loneliness  which  is  the  reverse  of  social 
feeling. 

Relief  from  sliaring  is,  however,  temporary  unless 
assisted  by  other  agencies.  And  the  return  of  feeling  is 
more  intense  from  the  sense  of  social  support.  Apart  from 
its  immediate  effects,  which  are  largely  nervous,  sharing 
deepens  emotion  by  fixing  the  ideal  causes  in  the  attention, 
expanding  the  reasons  for  feeling  fully  in  consciousness, 
and  giving  additional  associations  to  keep  it  constantly  in 
mind.  Mourning  garments,  cards,  etc.,  undoubtedly  keep 
grief  alive.  We  often  have  emotions  because  we  feel  that 
it  is  expected  of  us.^  Yet  often  one  of  the  old  associations 
that  has  long  seemed  the  dried  channel  of  a  forgotten  joy 
or  grief  empties  upon  us  an  overwhelming  flood  of  sweet 
or  bitter  memories.  Such  experiences  we  call  revulsions  of 
feeling,  and  they  sometimes  give  a  new  turn  to  the  per- 
manent current  of  the  affective  life. 

^  When  nine  years  of  age  the  writer  lost  a  brother,  and  his  memory 
of  mourning  is  largely  of  his  consciousness  of  the  importance  of  the 
occasion  and  his  desire  to  do  himself  and  his  family  credit  by  his 
deportment. 


PART  IV. 

WILL, 

MOTOR  ASPECTS  OF  SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  MOTOR  CONSCIOUSNESS. » 
§  1.  Idea  of  the  Motor  Consciousness. 

By  the  motor  consciousness  is  meant  the  ensetnble  of  ele- 
ments in  consciousness,  contributed  in  any  way  by  the 
motor  apparatus.  If  there  be  consciousness  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  motor  areas  in  the  brain,  of  the  process  of  the 
outward  flow  of  the  nervous  current,  of  the  movements 
taking  place  or  having  taken  place — all  are  elements  of 
the  motor  consciousness.  The  phrase,  therefore,  is  most 
general ;  and  it  may  be  defined  as  consciousness  in  as  far 
as  it  is  co7icerned  loith  muscular  oiiovemeiit. 

Law  of  Mental  Dynamogenesis.  Empirical  observation 
tends  overwhelmingly  to  confirm  the  inference  we  would 
expect  from  the  law  of  nervous  dynamogenesis,*  i.  e.,  that 
every  state  of  consciousness  tends  to  realize  itself  in  an 
appropriate  muscular  movement.  The  nervous  application 
of  the  law  leads  up  at  once  to  its  application  to  sensibility. 
If  every  ingoing  process  produces  an  outward  tension,  or 
tendency  to  muscular  discharge,  and  the  more  intense  and 
integrated  conditions  of  the  centers  be  more  delicately 
adjusted  to  such  a  play  of  incoming  and  outgoing  proc- 
esses, then   we    would   expect   elements  of   consciousness 

*Cf.  Handbook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap.  : 'f. 

8Above,  p.  38. 

308 


MOTOR   VATME  OF  THE  SUBCONSCIOUS.         309 

peculiar  to  tlie  motor  reaction.  That  is,  we  would  expect 
the  affective  consciousness  to  merge  into  the  motor  con- 
sciousness, just  as  the  ingoing  nervous  process  tends  to  the 
discharge  of  energy  into  the  outgoing  courses. 

The  analogy,  therefore,  may  be  put  something  like  this  : 
the  nervous  system  in  its  development  has  taken  on  the  two 
functions  called  stimulation  and  reaction.  When  con- 
sciousness arises  it  is  at  least — whatever  else  it  be — 
an  aid  through  pleasure  and  pain  to  the  life  process,  and  to 
the  further  development  of  the  system.  Analogy  would 
lead  us  to  look,  therefore,  for  this  new  factor  in  connection 
with  each  of  the  two  essential  nervous  functions,  stim- 
ulation and  reaction. 

The  concomitance  of  the  nerve  processes  and  their  con- 
scious states,  if  the  above  analogy  holds  in  a  simple  way, 
is   shown    in  Fig.   16,  which    represents 
the    normal     motor    consciousness    by 
means  of  the  "motor  square";  in  which 
circles  (o)  represent  elements    of   con-  „jc 
sciousness     and     crosses     (x)     nervous 
processes.     (Cf.  Fig.  12,  p.  46.) 

Varieties  of  Motor  Consciousness.  If 
it  be  true  that  all  states  of  consciousness 
tend  more  or  less  strongl}^  to  bring  about  appropriate 
muscular  reaction,  we  should  find  several  phases  in  motor 
consciousness.  And  this  is  true.  It  is  our  task,  accord- 
ingly, at  this  point,  to  trace  the  motor  bearing  of  the 
different  kinds  of  consciousness  which  have  been  already 
distinguished,  i.  e.,  to  discuss  the  motor  value  of  the  sub- 
conscious, of  reactive,  and  of  voluntary  consciousness, 
respectively. 

§  2.  Motor  Value  of  the  Subconscious. 

The  facts  already  adduced  to  illustrate  subconscious  phe- 
nomena are  largely  motor  facts.  Motor  phenomena  which 
fall  below  the  threshold  of  conscious  reaction,  belong  partly 


310  THE  MOTOR  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

to  tlie  subconscious  and  partly  to  the  unconscious  ;  that  is, 
partly  to  very  weak  sensibilit}^  and  partly  to  sentience. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  draw  a  line  of  distinction  between 
thera,  and  the  attempt  to  do  so  would  be  quite  artificial. 
We  shall,  therefore,  mass  such  reactions  together  under  the 
above  heading,  claiming,  at  the  same  time,  license  to  include 
those  reactions  which  are,  as  reactions,  purely  nervous. 

In  the  case  of  a  subconscious  reaction,  we  come  across 
the  curious  fact  that  a  nervous  process  itself  insufficient  to 
call  out  sensibility  may  have  muscular  effects  which  are 
quite  sensible.  We  respond  to  stimuli  which  we  do  not 
discern,  and  which  we  fail  afterward,  perhaps,  to  discover 
by  introspection.  We  often  speak  or  write  words  which 
we  do  not  mean  and  have  not  been  thinking  of.  Associa- 
tions often  lack  conscious  links.  We  respond  to  a  settling 
chair  by  balancing  the  body,  to  differences  in  the  material 
we  tread  upon  by  increased  muscular  tension.  In  short, 
close  observation  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  we  are  con- 
stantly alert  to  our  surroundings  whew  we  are  appar- 
ently uiiconscious  of  them.  The  whole  class  of  co-ordinat- 
ing reflexes  already  described  belong  here.  The  most 
unmistakable  class  of  cases  covers  suggestions  made  in  the 
hypnotic  state  which  are  carried  out  many  daj^s  afterward 
in  the  normal  state,  the  individual  being  unable  to  give  any 
reason  for  his  action.  In  this  case,  we  seem  to  have  abso- 
lute unconsciousness,  a  physiological  reaction  apart  from 
an}^  modification  in  the  major  consciousness,  whatever  we 
may  say  about  the  existence  of  a  secondary  consciousness. 
There  are  other  states  which  are  very  vaguely  or  dimly 
conscious,  such  as  presentations  of  objects,  or  memories  of 
events,  so  habitual  as  to  be  reacted  upon  without  attention. 
We  walk  about  our  own  house,  hang  our  hats  up,  and  rub 
our  shoes,  and  then,  when  asked,  are  unable  to  tell  whether 
we  did  any  such  thing  or  not.  We  wind  our  watch  at 
night,  and  learn  the  fact  later  only  by  tr^nng  to  wind  it 
again.     We  suddenly  discover  ourselves  half  dressed  in  the 


MOTOR   VALUE  OF  REACTIVE  CONSCIOUSNESS.     311 

morning  in  garments  we  bad  decided  to  wear  no  more. 
We  take  a  walk,  forget  our  errand,  and  soon  "  rein  up  "  in 
tlie  most  unexpected  part  of  the  city.  In  the  horse-cars 
we  brace  ourselves  from  tlie  jolting,  move  up  and  give 
anotlier  half  the  seat,  and  often  pay  our  fare  without  taking 
our  attention  from  the  morning  paper.  A  nervous  man 
will  arrange  his  necktie  or  stroke  his  mustache  fifty  times  a 
da^^  without  "  knowing  "  it,  and  all  of  us  have  our  little 
motor  habits,  which  we  are  conscious  of,  but  do  not 
observe.  Perhaps  as  clear  a  case  of  direct  adaptation  of 
our  movements  to  objects  of  which  we  are  only  passively 
conscious,  is  the  way  we  pass  about  in  a  well-filled  drawing- 
room  when  wrapped  in  thought,  avoiding  all  obstacles  by  a 
most  circuitous  and  irregular  route. 

§  3.  Motor  Value  of  the  Reactive  Coxsciousness. 

The  reactive  consciousness  has  already  been  characterized 
with  sufficient  clearness.  It  is  marked  off  from  passive  con- 
sciousness by  the  presence  of  a  reaction  of  the  attention, 
i.  €.,  by  the  presence  of  reflex  attention.*  The  terra  reac- 
tion brings  clearly  out  the  fact  that,  in  such  cases,  the 
attention  is  in  response  to  an  unexpected  stimulus.  As 
has  been  said  above,  there  is  just  as  truly  a  reaction  in  con- 
sciousness as  there  is  in  the  nervous  system,  although  the 
elements  of  the  reaction  are  often  thrown  out  of  their  true 
order  when  taken  up  into  the  discriminating  process.  For 
example,  I  hear  a  loud,  unexpected  sound,  and  turn  my 
head  involuntarily  in  the  direction  from  which  it  seems  to 
come.  The  order  of  events  appears  to  be  this  :  first,  the 
sound  ;    then  my  sensation  of  sound  ;    then  the  attentive 

'  The  relations  of  these  so  called  kinds  of  consciousness  to  attention 
may  be  illustrated  as  follows  : 

r  Passive Diffused      \ 

Consciousness  •]  Reactive   Reflex  y  Attention. 

(  VoluHtary Voluntary  ) 


312  THE  MOTOR  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

impulse  carrying  with  it,  first,  the  grosser  movements  of 
the  head  and  trunk,  and  afterward,  the  finer  movements 
of  the  eye-muscles,  etc.,  engaged  when  the  attention  is 
concentrated  ;  then  a  discrimination  of  the  sound  through 
the  attention  ;  and  finally,  a  motor  response  to  it.  This  is 
not  the  order,  however,  in  which  I  myself  apprehend  or 
recognize  the  diiferent  elements  in  the  reaction.  About 
the  first  thing  I  know  in  such  a  case  is  that  I  have  suddenly 
turned  my  head  and  bod}^  and  am  concentrating  my  atten- 
tion upon  something  which  I  now  subsequently  learn  to  be 
a  sound. 

Elements  of  the  Keactive  Consciousness.  Taking  the 
reaction,  then,  as  a  felt  reaction,  and  considering  its  ele- 
ments in  the  order  made  typical  in  cases  of  nervous  reac- 
tion, we  find,  first,  a  stimxdus  to  the  reactive  consciousness, 
i.  e.,  whatever  affective  or  feeling  element  in  consciousness 
calls  out  an  involuntary  act  of  attention  ;  second,  the  feel- 
ing of  expenditure  in  an  act  of  attention  which  is  drawn 
out  without  volition,  whatever  this  feeling  may  be  found 
to  include  ;  and  third,  the  feelings  of  the  muscular  move- 
7nents  appropriate  to  the  particular  stimulus. 

Of  these  three  elements  of  the  reactive  consciousness, 
the  last  may  be  considered  as  comprehending  only  the 
feelings  of  movements  already  executed  ;  that  is,  feelings 
coming  in  from  the  grosser  muscles  of  the  body,  etc. 
These  constitute  a  clear  kinsesthetic  or  efferent  contribu- 
tion to  the  motor  consciousness. 

The  stimultis  in  this  form  of  consciousness  is  treated  in 
a  later  connection  ;  so  it  remains  for  us  to  inquire  into  the 
feelings  which  properly  belong  to  the  act  of  involuntary 
attention  itself,  so-called  feelings  of  expenditure.  And 
they  must  be  considered  independently  of  feelings  of 
voluntary  effort ;  if  we  are  able  to  reach  a  coherent  con- 
clusion regarding  expenditure  alone,  it  will  be  of  great 
service  to  us  when  we  come  to  consider  effort. 


FEELING  OF  EXPEXDITURE  m  ATTENTION.     313 

§  4.  Feelixg  of  Expenditl'ke  in  Attextiox. 

Description.  Inspection  of  an  act  of  involuntary  atten- 
tion leads  to  the  detection  of  the  following  elements. 

1.  Feeling  of  IieacU?iess  to  Attend:  3Iental  Potential. 
Sucli  a  feeling  of  readiness  or pote?itial  hsLS  already  appeared 
in  connection  with  muscular  movement.  Muscular  fresh- 
ness and  vigor  pervade  the  entire  organic  system  ;  so  readi- 
ness to  give  attention  or  to  do  intellectual  work  is  a  clear 
and  well  marked  state  of  consciousness.  And  the  two  seem 
to  be,  in  part  at  least,  distinct  from  each  other.  After  con- 
tining  myself  to  my  writing  table  all  the  morning  my  atten- 
tion loses  its  elasticity  and  readiness  of  concentration  ;  but 
my  muscular  system  begins  to  feel  an  overabundance  of 
energy,  a  pressing  readiness  for  exercise.  And  when  I  give 
up  my  intellectual  task  and  indulge  my  craving  for  exer- 
cise, I  have  a  peculiar  feeling  of  throwing  off  the  mental 
weight,  of  getting  rid  of  the  thraldom  of  ideas,  in  the  easy 
enjoyment  of  muscular  activity.  However  we  may  account 
for  it,  the  difference  in  consciousnes's  between  feelings  of 
intellectual  and  of  ni{mGi\\a.v potential  is  well  marked.  In- 
tellectual readiness  probably  includes  both  nervous  and 
muscular  freshness. 

2.  Feeling  of  Fatigue  of  Attention.  The  state  of  the 
case  is  about  the  same  between  intellectual  and  muscular 
fatigue.  The  question  whether  there  is  nervous  fatigue 
apart  from  the  fatigue  of  particular  muscles  has  already 
been  adverted  to.  It  is  difficult  to  divide  this  question  in 
two  parts  and  suppose  purely  intellectual  fatigue  apart 
from  nervous  fatigue.  The  feeling  of  fatigue  in  attention 
may  be  taken,  provisionally  at  least,  to  include,  first,  fatigue 
of  the  nervous  system,  eitlier  in  the  sensorium  as  a  whole, 
or  in  the  particular  elements  which  are  brought  into  play  in 
the  activity  which  occasions  the  fatigue,  and,  second,  an 
element  of  lowered  muscular  tone. 

3.  Feeling  of  Actirlfg  in   InroJuntary  Attention.      The 


314  THE  MOTOn  COKSCIOUSNESS. 

central  point  of  expenditure  is  reached  in  Che  feeling 
of  actual  activity  during  the  attention.  If  readiness  pre- 
cedes the  attention,  and  if  fatigue  follows  it,  what  feeling 
do  we  have  during  it — at  the  very  moment  of  it  ?  Is  there 
a  feeling  of  activity,  apart  from  the  feelings  of  all  kinds 
now  described  ? 

Sensorial  and  Intellectual  Attention.  Further,  involun- 
tary attention  is  either  sensorial,  i.  e.,  terminating  on  a  part 
of  the  body  or  on  an  object,  or  intellectual,  i.  e.,  terminating 
on  an  image.  The  case  of  the  sound  which  causes  a  start 
is  typical  of  the  former  :  the  play  of  images  in  passive 
imagination,  or  reverie,  when  all  control  is  withdrawn,  illus- 
trates the  latter.  The  question  before  us  may  be  put  sepa- 
rately for  these  two  cases  ;  and  the  word  "thought"  will 
be  used  to  designate  the  play  of  ideas  in  apperception,  apart 
from  any  voluntary  influence  we  may  have  over  them. 

The  problem  of  the  feeling  of  attention  is  thus  simplified, 
and  three  plain  questions  now  confront  us  :  First,  are  we 
conscious  of  nervous  outgo  from  the  brain,  or  is  our  con- 
sciousness only  of  the -effect  of  such  outgo?  Second,  arc 
we  conscious  of  an  activity  of  attention  or  thought,  or  only 
of  the  effects  of  such  an  activity,  that  is,  of  thinking 
thoughts,  or  only  of  thought  thoughts  ?  And  third,  are 
these  two  forms  of  consciousness  one  and  the  same  thing  ? 

§  5.  Theory   of   Feeling  op  Activity  in  Reflex 
Attention. 

Association  or  Effect  Theory  of  Reflex  Attention. 
This  theory  regards  reflex  attention  as  an  associated  mass 
of  incoming  muscular  feelings  and  memories  of  such  feel- 
ings. It  accordingly  holds,  in  answer  to  the  third  question, 
that  the  feeling  of  sensorial  attention  is  the  same  in  kind 
as  that  of  intellectual  attention,  the  feelings  involved  in  the 
two  cases  arising  from  different  classes  of  muscles  and 
muscular  memories.  Thus  sensorial  attention  involves  feel- 
ings from  limbs  moved,  with  their  traces  left  in  memory, 


ACTIVITY  iy  REFLEX  ATTENTTOX.  315 

wliile  feelings  of  intellectual  attention  are  only  from  certain 
muscles  of  the  eye  and  eyebrow,  skin  of  the  skull,  respira- 
tion muscles,  etc.,  with  memories  of  former  acts  of  atten- 
tion. 

Witliout  citing  detailed  evidence  this  position  seems  well 
made  out  ;  it  suffices,  in  proof,  to  observe  that  the  feeling 
of  muscular  expenditure  is  not  present  when  the  attention 
is  entirely  absent.  If  my  arm  is  raised  mechanically  by  a 
friend  who  comes  softly  behind  me  and  grasps  my  hand  I 
do  not  feel  muscular  expenditure  ;  the  feeling  is  quite 
absent.  After  many  such  movements  I  begin  to  feel 
fatigue,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  clearly  muscular  fatigue  :  an 
effect  reported  by  the  afferent  process.  The  same  is  seen 
in  cases  of  sudden  twitching  of  the  muscles,  due  to  isolated 
discharges  in  the  brain,  and  in  pure  reflexes  :  they  are 
known  only  after  their  occurrence.  Consequentlj'  the  third 
question  may  be  thus  disposed  of. 

In  the  next  place,  this  theory  replies  to  the  second  ques- 
tion, above,  i.  e..  Are  we  conscious  of  the  activity,  process, 
of  thought,  or  -are  we  conscious  only  of  the  product  of 
thought?  of  thought  relating,  or  of  thought* relations ? 
The  answer  is  that  we  are  conscious  only  of  the  latter,  of 
thoughts  after  they  are  thought.  Whenever  we  catch 
ourselves  thinking  either  we  feel  that  we  have  just  thought 
something  or  that  we  are  just  going  to  think  something. 
There  is  no  process  between  the  absence  of  the  second  term 
of  my  thought  and  its  presence,  no  gap  at  all.  For  ex- 
ample, a  loud  sound  calls  my  attention  ;  there  is  no  interval 
of  conscious  thinking,  no  feeling  of  thinking,  between  the 
absence  of  the  sound  and  its  presence.  The  whole  case  is 
a  succession  of  feelings  thrown  into  temporar}^  confusion 
by  a  new  feeling,  and  the  eureJca-ieeXmg  that  results,  when 
I  recognize  the  sound,  is  only  the  fortunate  circumstance 
that  the  series  ends  in  a  feeling  that  is  familiar.  Even 
granted,  moreover,  that  there  is  a  synthesis  in  thought,  yet 
it  is  known  by  the  presence  of  such  synthetic  constructions 


316  THE  MO  Ton  C0N8CI0USKESS. 

in  tlioiiglit,  not  by  any  consciousness  of  tlie  process  of 
making  them. 

This  point,  again,  seems  to  be  well  taken  as  regards  tlie 
actual  elements  in  consciousness  at  any  given  stage  of 
thought.  It  is  a  mistake  to  say  that  we  feel  a  synthetic 
activity  in  consciousness  when  volition  is  absent  :  all  that 
we  feel  is  the  coming  together  and  disjoining  again  of 
elements.  That  this  is  the  result  of  an  activity  is  an  im- 
plication, a  necessary  presupposition,  not  a  felt  fact. 

Accordingly  only  the  first  of  our  three  questions  remains 
for  this  theory  to  give  reply  to,  i.  e.,  Are  we  conscious  of 
nervous  currents  as  tliey  pass  out  of  the  brain,  or  are  we 
conscious  only  of  the  effects  of  such  currents  in  actual 
movements  of  the  muscles  ?  The  question  is  here  limited 
to  cases  of  reactive  consciousness  or  reflex  attention,  as 
before. 

The  effect  theory  is  not  slow  to  answer  this  question 
in  accordance  with  its  general  tenor.  Its  advocates  chal- 
lenge their  opponents  to  produce  any  case  of  such  feelings 
of  expenditure  that  cannotlbe  explained  in  terms  of  afferent 
sensation.  The  present  state  of  the  discussion  is  briefly 
indicated  in  a  later  connection.* 

§  6.  CoNCLUSiox  ON  Reflex  Attextiox. 

From  the  foregoing  the  conclusion  is  that  as  far  as  there 
is  a  consciousness  of  self  in  reflex  attention  it  is  an  objec- 
tive, felt  self,  rather  than  a  subjective,  feeling,  active  self. 
Whatever  ground  may  be  found  subsequent!}^  for  such  an 
active  executive  self,  we  find  no  such  ground  here. 

This  conclusion  is  thrown  into  prominence  by  the  entire 
group  of  facts  of  hypnotism.  Here  the  subject  is  quite 
and  entirely  reactive.  His  consciousness  of  his  own  power 
of  choice,  exertion,  initiative,  is  gone,  and  the  mechanical 
nature  of  his  nervous  processes  works  up  through  the  rela- 
tional consciousness  which  he  still  has.  Instead  of  having 
'  Below,  chap.  xxvV  §  1. 


CONCLUSION  ON  REFLEX  ATTENTION.  317 

a  suggestion  from  without,  let  us  suppose  him  acting  from 
simple  sense-stimuli,  or  from  memories  thrown  into  his 
consciousness  from  within,  and  the  whole  case  is  plain 
before  us.  Whatever  feeling  of  activity  a  hypnotized  man 
may  have,  it  is  evidently  an  activity  of  his  nervous  system, 
as  it  reflects  the  activity  of  the  mind  of  someone  else. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT.* 

Notion  of  Stimulus.  An  involuntary  reaction  in  move- 
ment has  already  been  analyzed  into  its  three  aspects  or 
parts,  i.  e.f  stimulus,  consciousness  of  reaction,  and  actual 
movement.  Further,  the  second  of  these  elements  lias 
been  reduced  to  the  third  in  cases  where  volition  does  not 
enter.  Leaving  the  third  for  discussion  in  connection  with 
voluntary  movement,  it  remains  to  inquire  into  the  nature 
of  the  various  stimulations  which  issue  in  conscious  but 
involuntary  reaction. 

By  stimulus  is  meant  the  affective  experience  of  any 
kind  which  tends  to  issue  in  conscious  motor  reaction. 
Looked  at  from  the  side  of  the  nervous  system  it  is  the 
new  element  of  tension,  whence  ever  it  comes,  which  dis- 
turbs the  equilibrium  outward.  And  from  what  we 
already  know  of  the  nervous  system  we  readily  see  that 
such  new  elements  of  tension  may  come  either  from  some 
condition  of  the  nervous  organism  or  from  outside  the 
system.  Accordingly  stimuli  to  the  reactive  consciousness 
may  be  distinguished  as  organic  and  extra-organic. 

§  1.  Kinds  of  Motor  Stimuli. 

I.  Extra-organic    Stimuli   to    Movement:     Beflexes. 

The  various  special  kinds  of  stimulation,  as  light,  sound, 
etc.,  have  already  been  sufficiently  discussed,  as  also  have 
the  external  causes  of  the  more  obscure  phases  of  sen- 
sibility. 

All  reflexes  are  stimulated  from  without,  and  they  cover 
a  wide  range  of  phenomena.     They  occur  in  earliest  child-v 
*  Ct  San^ook  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  chap,  xiii, 

m 


SUGGESTION  AS  MOTOR  STIMULUS  319 

hood,  i.  e.,  sucking,  winking,  and  probably  the  first 
essentials  of  walking — a  reflex  alternation  of  the  legs — 
swallowing,   etc. 

Suggestion  as  Motor  Stimulus.^  By  suggestion  is 
meant  a  great  class  of  phenomena  typified  by  the  abrupt 
entrance  from  without  into  consciousness  of  an  idea  or 
image  which  becomes  a  part  of  the  stream  of  thought  and 
tends  to  produce  the  muscular  and  volitional  effects  which 
ordinarily  follow  ujion  its  presence.  I  suggest  a  course  of 
action  to  my  friend — he  may  adopt  it.  Besides  this  fact 
of  ideal  suggestion  there  is  what  may  be  called ph]/siological 
suggestion  :  covering  the  same  class  of  phenomena  in  cases 
where  the  suggestion  does  not  attain  the  standing  of  a 
conscious  image,  but  remains  subconscious.  It  is  called 
physiological  because  the  nervous  process,  as  in  all  cases  of 
very  faint  degrees  of  consciousness,  is  largely  self-acting  or 
reflex.  By  physiological  suggestion,  therefore,  is  meant 
the  bringing  about  of  a  reaction  subconsciously  by  means  of 
an  extra-organic  stimulus. 

The  clearest  examples  of  such  suggestions  occur  in  sleep. 
Words  spoken  to  the  sleeper  get  intelligently  answered. 
Positions  given  to  his  limbs  lead  to  others  ordinarily 
associated  with  them  ;  the  sleeper  defends  himself,  with- 
draws from  danger,  etc.,  etc.  The  early  development  of 
the  child's  consciousness  proceeds  largely  by  such  sugges- 
tions. Before  mental  images  are  definitely  formed  and 
subject  to  association  we  find  many  motor  reactions  stimu- 
lated by  such  physiological  suggestions  from  the  environ- 
ment. 

From  physiological  the  child  passes  to  sensori-motor 
suggestion,  the  type  of  reaction  which  illustrates  most 
clearly  the  law  of  dynamogenesis  already  stated.'^  In  this 
case  it  is  a  sensation,  a  clear  state  of  consciousness,  which 

'  Cf.  the  writer's   observjitions  upon  liis  child  m  Science,  xvil, 
(1891),  pp.  113  ff. 
'  Above,  p.  308. 


820        STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

liberates  motor  energy  and  produces  movement.  Besides 
the  inherited  sensori-motor  couples,  which  are  numerous 
and  well  marked,  other  reactions  grow  up  early  in  life  and 
become  habitual.  Of  the  latter  the  following  may  be 
mentioned  in  particular  : 

1.  Sleep-suggestions.  The  early  surroundings  and 
methods  of  inducing  sleep  become  powerful  reinforcements 
of  the  child's  drowsiness,  or  even  substitutes  for  it.^ 

2.  Food  and  clothing  suggestions.  These  represent  the 
spheres  of  most  frequent  and  highly  spiced  joys  and  sor- 
rows, and  their  reactions  soon  take  on  the  involuntary  and 
yet  highly  purposive  character  which  marks  our  adult  atti- 
tudes toward  dress  and  the  table. 

3.  Suggestions  of  personality .  The  child  shows  prefer- 
ences for  individuals  at  a  remarkably  early  age.  He  seems 
to  learn  and  respond  to  a  personal  presence  as  a  whole. 
Probably  the  voice  is  the  first  indication  of  his  nurse's  or 
mother's  personality  to  which  he  responds,  then  touch,  then 
the  sight  of  the  face. 

4.  Imitative  suggestion.  The  simple  imitation  of  move- 
ments and  sounds,  clearly  manifested  about  tlie  seventh 
month  of  life. 

In  ideo-motor  or  ideal  suggestion  we  pass  to  the  motor 
aspects  of  images,  reproductions.  And  here  the  motor 
accompaniments  are  largely  associations  and  follow  the 
laws  of  association.  As  soon,  further,  as  reproductions 
come  up,  with  their  suggested  trains,  we  find  the  rise  of 
will :  that  is,  they  become  stimuli  to  the  voluntary  con- 
sciousness— a  topic  for  later  discussion.  Yet  there  is  a 
state  of  conflict  and  hindrance  among  presentations  which 
is  mechanical  in  its  issue,  the  attention  being  drawn  in  a 
reflex  way.  So  states  of  vexation,  divided  counsel,  con- 
flicting impulse,  and  hasty  decision  against  one's  desire  for 
deliberate  choice.  We  often  find  ourselves  drawn  violently 
apart,  precipitated  through  a  whirl  of  suggested  courses 
'  See  the  writer's  detailed  observations,  loc.  cit. 


ORGANIC  STIMULI  TO  MOVEMENT.  321 

into  a  course  we  feel  unwilling  to  own  as  our  own.  This 
is  the  case  in  the  disease  called  aboulia,  or  loss  of  will.  Tlie 
man  is  prey  to  conflicting  impulses.  This  state,  called  by 
tlie  writer  deliberative  suggestion,  characterizes  many 
actions  of  the  young  cliihl  before  will  is  clearly  exercised.^ 

II.  Organic  Stimuli  to  Movement.  Again,  the  results 
of  the  former  classification  of  the  organic  sources  of  feeling 
serve  to  cover  a  great  area  of  the  present  topic.  In  general, 
any  condition  of  the  organism,  be  it  active  or  passive, 
which  is  suflicient  to  reach  consciousness,  tends  to  muscular 
expression,  either  natural  or  acquired.  Any  derangement 
of  the  digestion,  respiration,  or  circulation  quickens  or 
deadens  muscular  tone,  and  conies  out,  if  not  in  the  face, 
yet  in  the  conduct  of  the  man.  The  muscular  feelings 
themselves,  so  large  a  portion  of  the  "general  sensibility," 
reflect  direct  changes  in  the  tendency  and  direction  of 
motor  reactions.  Diseases  of  the  nervous  system  find  their 
diagnosis  in  their  effects  upon  the  muscular  apparatus  : 
paralysis  means  rigidity  ;  epilepsy,  convulsions  ;  sleep, 
flabbiness  of  the  muscles.  The  effects  of  organic  stimula- 
tion upon  the  motor  consciousness  is  best  seen  in  conditions 
of  pleasure  and  pain. 

Expressive  Reactions.  Among  direct  or  native  reac- 
tions an  important  class  are  called  expressive:  they  are 
differentiated  muscular  movements  which  reflect  uniformly 
various  affective  states  of  consciousness.  These  reactions 
have  already  been  discussed  above.^ 

Pleasure  and  Pain  as  Stimuli  to  Movement.  Perliaps 
the  most  direct  and  invariable  stimulus  to  involuntary 
movement  is  pain.  And  its  motor  force  is  independent,  as 
it  seems,  of  the  intrinsic  experience  of  which  it  is  the  tone. 
The  motor  force  of  a  sensation  of  light,  for  example,  may 
be  in  direct  antagonism  to  the  motor  force  of  the  pain 
which  the  light  causes  to  a  diseased  eye.     Despair  begets 

^  See  the  article  just  cited  for  a  detailed  example, 
» Above,  p.  300. 


•322        STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTABY  MOVEMENT. 

inaction,  but  the  painf  ulness  of  it  begets  restlessness.  This 
is  only  to  say  that  the  tone  is  an  element  of  sensibility 
apart  from  the  sensation  it  accompanies,  and  that  both  the 
one  and  the  other  have  motor  force. 

Yet  the  fact  that  there  are  no  experiences  absolutely  in- 
different as  respects  pleasure  or  pain  gives  tlie  motor  aspect 
of  them  an  universality  and  importance  which  must  be 
acknowledged  and  provided  for  in  anj^  mental  theory.  It 
is  a  question  answered  often  in  the  negative  whether  any 
course  of  conduct  is  ever  pursued  without  primary  reference 
to  the  pleasure  it  will  bring  or  the  pain  it  will  avoid. 
However  this  question  may  be  answered,  it  may  be  said  at 
this  point  that  no  line  of  muscular  reaction  is  possible  in 
which  an  element  of  motor  discharge  due  to  pleasure  or 
pain  has  not  entered.  This  must  be  true  if  the  funda- 
mental position  is  true  that  every  ingoing  process  alters  the 
equilibrium  of  the  central  system  and  modifies  the  direction 
of  its  outward  tendency.  Pleasure  and  pain  arising  from 
bodily  states  may,  therefore,  be  called  the  most  general 
internal  stimuli  to  the  reactive  consciousness. 

Nature  of  Pleasure  and  Pain  Reactions.  We  have 
already  seen  that  moderate  activities  are  generally  pleas- 
urable. It  would  be  expected,  therefore,  that  pain  would 
have  a  deadening  and  quieting  effect  upon  the  muscular 
system  :  that  such  an  effect  would  tend,  by  reducing  mus- 
cular activity  to  a  moderate  amount,  to  alleviate  the  pain 
and  induce  pleasure.  It  may,  as  a  fact,  be  said  that  a 
painful  motor  reaction  tends  to  suppress  itself. 

Again,  in  cases  of  extreme  pain,  we  would  expect,  in 
addition  to  the  above,  that  the  activities  of  other  motor 
elements  would  reinforce  the  inhibitory  process,  i.  e.,  draw 
off  energy  from  the  painful  reaction.  Accordingly  we 
find  that  violent  pain  stimulates  a  diffused  and  convulsive 
motor  reaction. 

And  yet  again,  since  pleasure  accompanies  moderate 
function,  we  would  expect  the  same  two  considerations  \q 


MOTOR  SPONTANEITY.  323 

operate  for  the  continuance  of  a  pleasurable  reaction  ; 
namely,  that  the  life  process  would  be  furthered  by  the 
repetition  of  a  pleasurable  reaction,  and  by  the  quieting  of 
other  activities  which  interfere  with  it  and  dissipate  its 
energ\\  Hence  we  may  say,  a  2^^^ctsiirable  motor  reaction 
tends  to  jyersist. 

Motor  Spontaneity.  The  observation  of  infants  clearly 
tends  to  show  tliat  movement  is  no  less  original  a  fact  than 
feeling.  It  is  impossible  to  say  whether  all  antenatal 
movements  are  in  response  to  feeling  conditions,  as  claimed 
by  some,  just  as  it  is  impossible  to  prove  that  the  begin- 
ning of  feeling  is  possible  only  after  sufficient  physical 
organization  to  make  motor  reaction  possible,  as  claimed 
by  others.  It  is  altogether  probable  that  the  two  kinds 
of  phenomena  are  equally  original,  and  depend  upon  each 
other.  This  is  certainly  the  case,  at  any  rate,  at  the  dawn 
of  independent  life.  Internal  conditions  of  the  organism 
itself  are  sufficient  stimuli  to  an  endless  variety  of  move- 
ments. Such  reactions,  which  are  simply  the  discharges, 
the  outbursts,  of  the  organism,  independent  of  definite 
external  stimulation,  are  called  sjyotitaneoifs.  So  the  inces- 
sant random  movements  of  infants  and  the  extraordinary 
rubber-like  activity  of  the  year-old  child. 

The  movements  of  infants  seem  to  indicate  greater 
intensity  of  motor  feeling  than  is  found  in  adults.  A 
child's  extreme  restlessness  is  due  to  a  high  feeling  of 
2)otential  or  readiness  of  discharge  ;  and  fatigue  is  accom- 
panied by  a  correspondingly  complete  collapse  of  muscular 
movements.  This  follows  from  the  mobility  of  the  infant's 
cerebral  elements  before  they  are  pressed  into  definite 
connections  and  systems  which  give  them  greater  inertia, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  greater  general  capacities  for  con- 
tinued expenditure  on  the  other. 

Upon  this  superfluity  of  motor  energy  is  built  up  the 
so-called  play-instincfj  which  is  not  definite  enougli  in  its 
channels  to  be  classed  properly  as  an  instinct.     The  energv 


324        STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

of  the  muscles  is  brought  under  voluntaiy  control  to  gratify 
other  senses  than  the  muscular  sense  itself.  Educationally, 
play  is  important,  as  tending  to  give  the  child  mobility  of 
movement,  and  a  sense  of  arrangement,  form,  and  complex 
situation  ;  it  is  also  a  valuable  aid  to  the  growth  of  the 
inventive  and  constructive  faculty. 

§  2.  Impulse  and  Instinct. 

In  the  foregoing  section  the  stimuli  to  the  reactive  con- 
sciousness have  been  seen  to  come  from  within  or  without 
the  organism.  As  originating  mainly  within  they  may  be 
called  in  general  impulsive,  and  as  originating  mainly  with- 
out, iiistinctive.  With  such  an  inexact  distinction  for  the 
present,  the  more  definite  inquiry  into  imjiulse  and  instinct 
may  be  begun. 

Impulse.  By  an  impulsive  character  we  understand 
one  in  which  activity  predominates  ;  but  activity  of  a 
somewhat  capricious  kind.  We  contrast  a  creature  of 
impulse  with  a  creature  of  reason.  And  this  means  more 
than  that  the  impulsive  individual  can  give  no  adequate 
reason  for  his  outbursts  ;  it  means  also  that  no  one  else 
can.  Impulses  are  essentially  unreasonable  to  the  onlooker. 
They  are  capricious  in  the  sense  that  they  are,  to  a  degree, 
idiosyncratic. 

In  this  case,  as  in  so  many  others,  the  result  of  close 
anal^^sis  is  only  a  confirmation  of  our  ordinary  definition. 
Looked  at  from  the  side  of  pliysiology,  sensory  and  motor 
processes  are  such  only  as  they  are  correlative  and  antithetic 
to  each  other.  The  physiological  unit  is  an  arc,  a  reaction. 
Psychologically  we  find  a  similar  state  of  things.  At  the 
beginning,  as  far  as  investigation  can  discover,  there  is  an 
element  of  motor  feeling — of  going  out,  as  well  as  of  taking 
in.  And  this  "going  out "  element  gets  to  itself,  wherever 
we  find  consciousness,  a  kind  of  personality  or  idiosyncrasy, 
seen  in  its  selective  reactions,  and  in  the  kind  of  character 
which  it  builds  up.     The  ribs,  so  to  speak,  of  consciousness 


IMPTILSB.  325 

go  in  pairs,  just  as  the  sensor  and  motor  nerves  serve  as  rib- 
pairs  in  the  nervous  system ;  and  taken  together  as  pairs  tliey 
constitute,  on  our  last  analysis,  the  foundation  of  all  con- 
scious life.  In  dealing  with  sensibility  we  are  dealing 
with  one  side  of  this  pair.  What  sensibility  is  is  an  in- 
scrutable mystery :  it  is  an  ultimate  psychological  fact. 
And  the  same  is  true  of  impulse  :  it  is  tl>e  other  element  in 
tlie  fundamental  pair. 

Yet,  in  the  way  of  description,  we  may  make  the  fol- 
lowing observations  about  impulse,  in  the  light  of  what  we 
know  of  phj'siology  and  of  general  consciousness. 

1.  Impulse  belongs  to  t/ie  reactive  co)iscioi(S7iess :  it  does 
not  involve  deliberation  and  will.  A  deliberative  character 
is  a  man  who  controls  his  impulses,  that  is,  one  who  brings 
his  will  to  bear  effectually  upon  his  impulses.  On  the  other 
hand,  very  strong  and  varied  impulses  tend  to  overpower 
and  paral^^ze  the  will.  Impulse  should  therefore  find  its 
general  condition  in  the  physiology  and  psychology  of  the 
involuntary  life.  It  follows.that  the  end  of  impulse  is  not 
pictured  in  consciousness. 

2.  Impulses  are  never  quite  beyond  control  in  normal 
circumstances.  They  are  sufficiently  internal  and  unreflex 
to  be  subject  to  voluntary  negation.  Yet  their  influence 
upon  the  volitional  life  may  be  very  great,  as  appears  later 
in  the  consideration  of  them  as  motives  to  action.  In  cases 
of  long  indulgence  or  weak  resolution  their  subjugation  can 
only  be  indirectly  accomplished  ;  that  is,  by  the  active 
pursuit  of  other  lines  of  activity,  by  which  the  force  of  the 
unprofitable  impulse  is  drained  off  into  adjacent  channels. 

3.  The  idiosyncratic  character  of  impulse  must  be  due 
largely  to  constitutional  tendencies  of  individuals  derived 
from  inheritance  or  from  peculiar  conditions  of  life.  The 
effects  of  inheritance  in  this  particular  are  very  marked. 
Nothing  is  so  evidently  inherited  as  active  tempera- 
ment. And  in  the  individual  life  the  growth  and  decay 
of  impulse  is  also  easily  observed.     Discouraging  circum- 


326  STTMXTLI  TO  mVOLXINTARY  MOVEMENT. 

stances  or  continued  ill  fortune  may  reduce  a  man  of  hope- 
ful impulses  to  a  prevailing  pessimism  and  lack  of  interest. 
This  characteristic  individuality  of  impulse  prevents  its 
division  into  classes,  and  makes  it  impossible  to  formulate 
for  single  impulsive  reactions  any  exact  laws  of  stimulation. 

4.  Impulse  is,  therefore,  internaUi/  sthnulated :  and  can- 
not geyierally  he  analyzed  into  definite  reflex  elements.  This 
is  true  on  both  the  physiological  and  the  psychological  side. 
A  physiological  impulse  cannot  be  traced  directly  and  uni- 
formly to  a  particular  stimulus  :  it  seems  to  be  rather  the 
outcome  of  what  is  peculiar  to  the  central  process,  and  to 
result  from  the  growth  of  the  system.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  cannot  trace  impulses  in  consciousness  to  uniform 
psychological  antecedents.  They  seem  to  represent  the 
state  of  consciousness  as  a  whole,  apart  from  the  theoretical 
worth  of  particular  images.  Impulses  of  fear  in  nervous 
persons  are,  and  persist  in  being,  quite  independent  of 
argument  and  persuasion.  Our  reasoned  conclusions  fre- 
quently have  to  fight  their  way  through  many  opposing 
impulsive  tendencies. 

Yet  it  is  generally  through  the  presence  of  some  definite 
object  or  image  that  impulses  are  clearly  manifested.  What 
may  have  been  a  vague  feeling  of  unrest  or  disquiet  turns 
into  an  impulsive  motor  reaction  Avhenever  it  finds  its 
appropriate  object,  as  Jessen  remarks. 

Definition  of  Sensuous  Impulse.  Accordingly  we  may 
define  sensuous  impulse  psychologically  as  the  original 
tendency  of  consciousness  to  express  itself  in  motor  terms 
as  far  as  this  tendency  exists  cqjart  from  particidar  stimu- 
lations of  sense. 

Kinds  of  Senuous  Impulse.  Confining  ourselves  for  the 
present  to  the  sensuous  side  of  impulse,  we  find  that  such 
tendencies  are  either  positive  or  7iegative — toward  or  away 
from  a  present  stimulating  object.  The  impulses  following 
pain  are  away  from  the  cause  of  pain,  those  arising  from 
pleasure  toward  the  source  of  pleasure.     They  do  not  in- 


INSTIXCT.  327 

volve,  however,  definite  purpose,  or  the  adoption  of  con- 
scious ends.  Tiie  purposive  character  wliicli  they  have  is 
a  case,  as  far  as  psychology  goes,  of  original  adaptation. 

Farther,  such  impulses  are  eithev  furthering  ov  inhibitory^ 
respectively,  of  motor  reaction.  The  effect  of  moderate 
pain  is,  generally,  quieting  or  inhibitory.  Yet  an  impor- 
tant class  of  physical  pains  induce  definite  and  violent 
motor  agitation  :  these  are  the  discomforts  arising  from 
phj^sical  lack  or  unsatisfied  appetite.  All  the  animal  appe- 
tites are  native  and  their  appropriate  motor  apparatus  comes 
into  impulsive  activity.  The  impulses  which  spring  from 
pleasurable  states  are  uniformly  furthering. 

Instinct.  The  general  word  impulse  was  given  to  the 
more  complex  motor  tendencies  as  far  as  they  are  internally 
initiated  :  similarly,  complex  reactions  which  are  stimulated 
from  the  environment  are  called  Instincts.  The  division 
between  the  two  classes  is  thus  abroad  line  of  demarcation, 
subject  to  exceptions  and  anomalous  cases  on  both  sides. 
From  the  standpoint  of  common  observation  two  great 
characters  seem  to  attach  to  instinct :  first,  they  are  consid- 
ered a  matter  of  the  original  endowment  of  an  organism, 
and  further,  they  are  thought  to  exhibit  the  most  remarkable 
evidence  in  nature  of  the  adaptation  of  organisms  to  their 
living  medium. 

Assuming  in  advance  that  instinct  is  a  complex  motor 
phenomenon  stimulated  from  without,  empirical  observation 
enables  ns  to  make  the  following  remarks  in  the  way  of 
further  description. 

1.  Like  impulse,  instinct  belongs  to  the  reactive  consciotis- 
ness.     This  is  now  sufficiently  understood. 

2.  Ordinarily  instinct  is  not  under  voluntary  control. 
Here  the  case  differs  from  the  phenomenon  of  impulse. 

3.  Instincts  are,  as  a  rule,  definite  and  uniform:  thej 
lack  the  idiosyncratic  and  individual  variations  of  impulse. 

4.  Instincts  are  correlated  xoith  definite  stimulation,  to 
which  they  afford  reflex  reaction. 


328        STIMULI  TO  INVOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

In  saying  that  instincts  are  reflex  we  bring  to  mind  all 
tlie  characteristics  of  such  reactions :  their  mechanical 
nature  as  fixed  types  of  nervous  process,  their  irresistible- 
ness  as  phenomena  of  consciousness,  their  particular  forms 
as  belonging  to  distinct  animal  species.  They  represent 
the  consolidated  nervous  structure  which  is  transmitted  by 
inheritance,  and  the  low  form  of  consciousness  which  has 
not  character  enough  to  be  impulsive. 

In  saying  that  they  are  reflex  it  is  further  meant  that 
instincts  do  not  carry  consciousness  of  the  effects  which 
they  work.  The  hen,  Avhen  she  first  "  sits "  on  her  nest, 
has  no  picture  of  her  future  brood,  and  no  purj^ose  to  hatch 
her  dozen  eggs.  In  saying  she  has  an  instinct  to  "  sit  "  we 
mean  that  when  her  organic  condition  (warmth,  etc.)  is  so 
adjusted  to  the  environment  (nest,  eggs,  etc.)  that  hatching 
will  ensue,,  she  sits  by  a  necessity  of  her  reflex  nervous 
organism.  So  we  cannot  say  that  migrator}^  birds  have  a 
picture  of  the  country  to  which  thej''  fly  for  the  first  time, 
or  an  anticipation  of  the  congenial  warmth  of  a  southern 
clime:  all  we  can  say  is  that,  atmospheric  and  other  con- 
ditions acting  as  stimuli,  the  bird's  migratory  instinct  shows 
itself  as  an  appropriate  motor  reaction. 

Complexity  of  Instinct.  But  the  simple  concept  of 
reflex  reaction  needs  some  modification  in  view  of  the 
marvelous  complexity  of  observed  instincts.  If  the  pur- 
posive adaptations  of  the  organism  were  limited  to  a  single 
reflex  arc,  i.  e.,  to  a  sense-stimulation  and  a  muscular  move- 
ment in  reaction,  the  life  of  the  animal  world  would  be  cut 
off  at  a  low  level  of  development.  The  adaptation  to  its 
environment  on  the  part  of  the  nervous  system  must  gain 
this  complexity  in  two  ways  :  first,  by  a  co-ordination  of 
muscular  elements  in  a  single  group  for  a  common  end — 
what  we  n\2ij  call  2^  coexisting  complexity ;  or,  second,  a  union 
of  successive  motor  reactions  in  a  dependent  series  for  a  com- 
mon end — what  we  may  call  a  serial  complexity.  Both  of 
these   are   realized  in   animal   instinct.     The  bird's  nest- 


DBFtNITION  OF  ANIMAL  INSTINCT.  329 

building  involves  both  the  simultaneous  performance  of 
many  muscular  reactions  and  the  long  succession  of  move- 
ments in  flight,  etc.,  from  day  to  day,  which  in  voluntary 
life  we  call  the  employment  of  means  to  end. 

Definition  of  Animal  Instinct.  From  the  point  of  view 
of  consciousness,  instincts  are  original  tende?icies  of  con- 
sciousness to  express  itself  in  motor  terms  in  response  to 
definite  hut  genercdly  complex  stimulations  of  sense ;  i,  e., 
they  are  inherited  motor  intuitions.  . 

Variability  of  Instinct.  This  general  theory  of 
instinct  is  furtlier  strengthened  by  the  fact  of  variability, 
possible  modification,  or  entire  loss  of  an  instinct  by  reason 
of  changes  in  the  stimulating  conditions.  Recent  observa- 
tions have  established  this  point  beyond  question.  The 
child  loses  the  power  of  sucking  after  he  has  been  weaned  ; 
and  if  he  re-learn  it,  it  must  be  by  a  gradual  process. 
Birds  in  confinement  lose  the  nest-building  instinct.  Bees 
will  so  modify  their  hive  structure  as  to  overcome  new  and 
quite  artificial  obstacles,  while  still  retaining  the  architec- 
tural principle  essential  to  economy  of  material.  We  ac- 
cordingly reach  a  broad  class  of  phenomena  which  seem  to 
lie  on  the  border  line  between  impulse  and  instinct,  as  now 
defined,  and  which  tend  to  bring  unity  into  this  phase  of 
conscious  life.  The  facts  may  be  gathered  under  the  fol- 
lowing points  : 

1.  Decay  of  Instinct  from  Disuse:  a  principle  which 
explains  itself.  Physiologically  it  means  the  encroachment 
of  nervous  combinations,  which  are  used  upon  tlie  material 
or  connections  of  such  disused  instincts,  the  result  being 
a  readjustment  of  elements  in  a  way  whicli  destroys  the 
former  instinctive  reaction. 

2.  Modification  of  Instinct  from  Imperfect  Adjustment. 
This  means  the  reversion  of  reflex  co-ordinations  to  a  less 
complex  type.  The  bird  that  has  lost  the  nest-building 
instinct  may  still  retain  the  egg-laying  and  mating  in- 
stincts, although  in  a  wild  state  it  is  difficult  to  draw  any 


330         STIMTILI  TO  INVOLUNTART  MOVEMENT. 

line  of  division  between  them.  Tlie  adaptation  of  the 
reaction  to  that  degree  and  kind  of  stimulus  actually  present 
is  wonderful,  but  still  a  fact.  It  is  probable  that  this  mod- 
ification of  instinct  is  due  in  part  to  the  influence  of  mem- 
ories of  earlier  experiences,  the  present  elements  of  stimu- 
lation working  by  help  of  reinforcement  from  their  own 
memories.  In  this  way  the  elements  essential  for  a  present 
reaction  are  emphasized.  Imitative  suggestions  tend,  in 
the  same  way,  to  modify  instincts.  Voluntary  selection, 
also,  breaks  up  instincts,  until  in  many  cases  only  the  im- 
pulses remain,  so  to  speak,  instinctive. 

3.  Natural  Exhaustion  of  Instincts.  Many  instinctive 
reactions  naturally  spend  themselves  and  die  away.  Thus 
the  infant's  sucking  instinct,  the  gregarious  instinct  in 
some,  the  bashful  instinct  in  others.  In  many  cases  the 
instinct  of  modesty  seems  to  disappear  altogether  as  life 
advances.  So  many  pln^sical  enjoyments  disappear  and 
the  enthusiasms  of  youth  fade  and  perish  together.  Such 
instincts  represent  phases  merely  in  the  life  history  of  the 
physical  and  mental  organism. 

§  3.  Affective  Nature  op  all  Stimuli  to  Movement. 

Affects.  In  the  foregoing  notice  of  different  classes  of 
stimuli  the  fact  has  been  assumed  that  they  are  all  phe- 
nomena of  feeling.  We  feel  the  force,  the  motor  worth,  of 
a  suggestion,  a  pain-,  an  impulse.  An  idea  simply  as  an 
idea — if  such  could  be  realized — might  not  react  in  move- 
ment ;  but  the  simple  presence  of  an  idea  in  consciousness 
is  itself  a  feeling,  and  only  in  as  far  as  it  affects  us  does  it 
move  us. 

We  may  accordingly  apply  the  term  affects  to  all  stimuli 
to  involuntary  movement.  When  I  am  affected  I  am 
moved  through  my  own  inner  state  of  sensibility^  And 
such  affects  also  figure,  as  will  appear,  in  the  voluntary 
consciousness  as  well ;  but  there  they  stand  in  contrast 
with  another  great  class  of  stimulations,  which  together 


DIVISION  OF  AFFECTS.  331 

with  tliem  constitute  motives.  Affects,  therefore,  are  the 
antecedents  of  invohintary  movements,  as  motives,  includ- 
ing affects,  are  the  antecedents  of  acts  of  will. 

Division  of  Affects.  From  the  above  description  of 
motor  stimuli  we  may  conclude  that  involuntary  movement, 
when  not  spontaneous  and  not  a  simple  reflex — that  is,  when 
it  is  stimulated  through  consciousness — results  from  one  or 
more  of  the  causes  in  the  following  table  : 
f  Pleasure  and  pain. 

.     Su«^sjestion. 

Stmuli^  T        1 

Impulse. 

[instinct. 


MOTOR  ASPECTS  OF  IDEAL  FEELING, 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

STIMULI  TO  VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT.' 

The  Voluntary  Motor  Consciousness.  The  general 
analysis  already  found  convenient  for  the  reactive  con- 
sciousness holds  for  the  voluntar}^  We  find  that  in  all 
cases  of  intended  bodily  movement  there  is,  first,  a  reason 
why  we  will  the  reaction  ;  second,  the  actual  decision  or 
act  of  will  ;  and  third,  the  resulting  movement.  All  the 
"  reasons  why,"  taken  together,  constitute  stimuli  to  volun- 
tary movement,  and  they  may  be  considered  first. 

§  1.  General  Stimuli. 

I.  Interest  in  an  Object.  The  most  evident  character- 
istic of  intentional  action  is  that  something  is  intended,  i.  e., 
that  a  presentation  of  some  kind  is  set  before  consciousness. 
The  notion  of  an  end  foreseen,  which  we  found  absent  in 
instinct  and  impulse,  and  undefined  in  ethical  feeling,  here 
becomes  explicit.  Psychology  finds  here,  in  common 
phraseology,  one  of  its  safest  distinctions. 

Yet  it  is  easy  to  see  that  an  object  thus  presented  or 
apperceived  must  carry  some  interest  in  order  to  be  pursued. 
I  will  to  move  my  leg,  either  that  I  may  walk — my  present 
interest  ;  or  that  I  may  relieve  a  strain— also  my  present 
interest.  Some  degree  of  present  emotional  interest, 
therefore,  may  be  said  to  be  the  most  general  stimulus  to 
volition. 

^  Cf .  Handbook  of  Psycliology,  vol.  11.  chap.  xiv. 


ORIGIN  OF  VOLITION.  333 

Origin  of  Volition.  As  the  young  child's  earliest  in- 
terests are  its  crying  physical  needs,  it  is  probable  that 
voluntary  movement  takes  its  rise  in  the  adjustment  of 
spontaneous  and  reflex  movements  to  varying  conditions, 
of  suggestion  and  impulse.  As  a  fact,  we  find  the  random 
movements  of  the  infant  very  soon  taking  on  the  char- 
acter of  tentative  voluntary  imitations  and  explorations. 
I  hold  that  the  first  clear  cases  of  volition  in  the  child  are 
seen  in  "persistent  imitation" — its  "  try,  try  again,"  in  imi- 
tating movements  seen  and  noises  heard.^  These  nascent 
efforts  and  their  reverses  gradually  give  rise  to  well-formed 
beliefs  in  points  of  objective  reality,  upon  which  volun- 
tary reactions  become  rapidly  habitual. 

II.  Affects  as  Stimuli  to  Voluntary  Movement.  The 
influences  which  bear  on  voluntary  movement  are  farther 
and  explicit  expressions  of  the  influences  already  found  to 
effect  involuntary  reaction.  The  general  law  that  sense- 
modifications  tend  to  pass  off  in  motor  reactions  bears 
riglit  up  into  the  voluntary  sphere.  Suggestion  which 
produces  involuntary  movement  tends  to  produce  volun- 
tary ;  so  of  pleasure  and  pain^  emotion,  impulse.  The 
psycliology  which  separates  volition  from  reaction  so 
sharply  as  to  deny  any  influence  upon  the  will  to  other 
stimuli  than  pictured  ideas  is  false.  The  conditions  back 
of  an  act  of  choice  are  never  limited  to  the  alternatives 
between  which  the  choice  is  made.  There  is  beneath  it  all 
a  dumb,  unexpressed  mass  of  affects — organic,  partially  felt 
tendencies  outward,  which  give  coloring  to  the  whole  proc- 
ess. A  decision  made  at  night  is  reversed  in  the  morning, 
when  no  new  information  has  been  received.  A  trifling 
physical  accident  will  distort  vision,  arouse  emotion,  and 
reverse  decision.  Tliis  fact,  that  our  most  abstract  acts  of 
volition  are  strongly  influenced  by  subconscious  affective 

'  See  my  paper  on  "  The  Origin  of  VoUtion  in  Childhood,"  Science, 
No.  511,  1892,  p.  286  ;  also  in  Proceedings  of  Congress  for  Ex^er, 
Psychology,  London  meeting,  1892. 


334  STIMULI  TO   VOLUNTABY  MOVEMENT. 

conditions,  is  only  beginning  to  have  the  recognition   it 
deserves. 

§  2.  Special  Stimulus  to  Volition  :  Desire. 

Apart  from  the  more  general  influences  already  described 
we  find  at  the  basis  of  all  voluntary  movement  the  great 
fact  of  desire.  Understanding  the  term  as  synonymous 
with  wish — as  the  words  are  popularly  used — our  concep- 
tion will  grow  more  exact  as  we  proceed. 

Impulse  as  Basis  of  Desire:  Appetence.  The  remarks 
already  made  about  sensuous  impulse  lead  to  an  inquiry  as 
to  the  ground  of  the  attracting  and  repelling  force  inherent 
in  certain  emotions.  There  are  original  intellectual  impulses 
accompanjdng  and  carrying  forward  the  apperceptive  proc- 
esses, as  there  are  physical  impulses  preserving  and  fur- 
thering the  physical  life.  These  intellectual  impulses  lie 
at  the  bottom  of  the  earlier  classification  of  the  emotions  : 
logical  impulse  ;  5e{/*-impulses,  seen  in  ambition,  vainglory, 
self- depreciation  ;  sympathetic  impulses,  seen  in  generosity, 
self-denial,  impulse  to  rescue,  bravery  for  others,  etc.; 
impulses  for  ideals^  of  truth,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful. 
As  terminating  on  particular  classes  of  objects  such 
impulses  are  often  called  appetences. 

Desire  and  its  Objects.  The  impulsive  basis  of  desire, 
however,  is  not  the  whole.  Intellectual  impulse  is  a 
directed  impulse,  an  impulse  conscious  of  the  object  of  its 
satisfaction.  This  objective  reference  it  is  that  distin- 
guishes desire  from  centrally  initiated  reactions  generally. 
The  distinction  is  seen  clearly  in  certain  experiences  of 
restless  impulsiveness  which  w^e  feel,  when  there  is  no  defi- 
nite object  of  desire.  Restlessness,  both  mental  and 
physical,  tends  to  pass  off  in  diffused  accidental  chan- 
nels. The  shifting,  aimless,  often  destructive,  muscular 
movements  of  the  nervous  dyspeptic  find  their  counter- 
part in  similar  movements  of  his  attention  and  emotions. 
JSut  when  this  outward  tendency  is  chained  down  to  a 


BISE  OF  DESIRE.  335 

single  outlet  clearly  pictured  in  consciousness,  we  have 
desire. 

The  object  of  desire  is,  tlierefore,  that  after  which  desire 
reaches  out  ;  and  these  objects  are  innumerable.  In  gen- 
eral, any  presentation  whatever  that  arouses  an  impulsive 
movement  of  consciousness  becomes  by  that  fact  the  object 
of  desire. 

Rise  of  Desire.  The  first  clear  cases  of  desire  in  the 
cliild  express  themselves  by  movements  of  the  hands  in 
grasping  after  objects  seen.  As  soon  as  there  is  attention, 
giving  a  clear  visual  presentation  of  an  object,  we  find  im- 
pulsive muscular  reactions  directed  toward  it,  at  first  in  an 
excessively  crude  fashion,  but  becoming  rapidl}^  refined. 
The  writer  found,  in  experiments  with  his  own  child,'  that 
the  vain  grasping  at  distant  objects  which  prevailed  in  a 
lessening  degree  up  to  the  sixth  month  of  life  tended  to 
disappear  in  the  two  subsequent  months.  During  the 
eighth  month  the  child  would  not  grasp  at  colored  objects 
more  than  sixteen  inclies  distant,  her  reaching  distance  be- 
ing ten  to  twelve  inches.  This  training  of  desire  is  evi- 
dently an  association  of  muscular  (arm)  sensations  with 
visual  experiences  of  distance.  It  is,  therefore,  probably 
safe  to  say  that  desire  takes  its  rise  in  visual  sugc/estion  and 
develops  wider  its  lead.  The  earlier  feelings  of  lack  and 
need  springing  from  appetite  are  vague  and  organic,  and 
cannot  be  called  desires  :  they  have  no  conscious  pictured 
objects. 

Desire  and  its  Tone.  The  hedonic  coloring  of  desire  is 
always  a  state  of  pain,  especially  when  the  impulsive  tend- 
ency is  intense  or  long  restrained.  It  begins  with  a  state 
of  uneasiness  or  restlessness.  The  basis  of  desire,  like  that 
of  appetite,  is  a  functional  need  :  this  state  of  need  or  lack 
is  in  itself  painful,  and  its  gratification  pleasurable.  But 
both  the  removal  of  the  pain  and  the  gaining  of  the  pleasure 
are  conditioned  upon  the  presence  of  the  object  upon  which 
'  See  Science,  xvi.  (1890),  p.  347. 


336  STIMULI  TO    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

the  function  in  question  is  legitimately  exercised.  For 
example,  in  hunger  the  lack  in  the  nutritive  function  is  felt 
as  pain  ;  the  function  is  brought  into  exercise  by  its  appro- 
priate object,  food  ;  and  the  exercise  of  the  function  is 
pleasurable.  So  with  the  student,  the  lack  of  mental  occu- 
pancy is  painful,  the  pain  is  relieved  by  securing  an  appro- 
priate subject  of  application,  and  the  function  thus  estab- 
lished gives  pleasure.  Originally,  therefore,  the  hedonio 
coloring  of  tlie  satisfaction  of  desire  is  purely  an  accompani- 
ment, not  in  any  sense  the  object  of  the  desire,  unless  the 
pleasure  itself  he 2ncturecl  to  consciousness  and  intentionally 
aimed  at.  Observations  of  children  at  the  period  when 
volition  is  arising  show  that  the  first  stages  of  volition  deal 
most  directly  with  objects  ;  that  the  child  only  learns  by 
degrees  to  manipulate  objects  in  order  to  increase  or 
lengthen  pleasure,  ^.  e.,  learns  that  he  can  modif  v  his  nat- 
ural reactions  and  subordinate  them  to  the  pursuit  of  the 
pleasure  which  they  have  incidentally  afforded  him.  The 
infant's  appetites  are  at  first  directed  to  objects  which  sat- 
isfy :  he  drinks  and  casts  his  bottle  energetically  from  him. 
After  some  eight  or  nine  months  he  begins  to  dally  with 
liis  bottle,  to  stop  a  while  and  return  again,  to  continue  after 
his  appetite  is  satisfied  ;  and  in  the  child  of  two  years  and 
older  the  pleasure  of  eating  has  clearly  superseded  the 
simple  desire  for  food,  and  has  become  itself  an  object  of 
pursuit. 

Coefacient  of  the  Desirable.  A  further  question  has 
reference  to  the  attribute  or  quality  of  an  image  which 
makes  it  the  object  of  desire.  Why  is  it  that  there  is  an 
impulsive  tendency  to  or  from  certain  presentations  ? 
The  answer  requires  a  closer  analysis  of  both  the  mental 
and  the  physical  conditions  involved. 

On  the  mental  side  it  is  well  to  remember  that  the 
various  coefiicients  of  belief  are  found  in  the  need-satisfy- 
ing quality  of  various  mental  experiences.  In  desire  the 
deniands  for  such  satisfaction  become  explicit,  and  the  pre- 


PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  DESIRE..  337 

sented  objects  come  to  have  value  and  satisfying  reality 
according  as  they  afford  fit  termini  for  reaction.  The  repro- 
duction of  suck  an  object  suggests  its  appropriate  satisfac- 
tions, but  the  representation  is  wanting  in  body,  reality, 
coefficient.  Here,  then,  is  one  attribute  of  an  imaged 
object  of  desire,  ^.  e.,  the  suggestion  it  gives  of  satisfactions 
:ichich  it  does  not  bring. 

Further,  what  are  these  suggestions  ?  What  form  do 
they  take?  Evidently  the  form  that  all  suggestions  take  : 
motor  form.  They  tend  to  pass  off  in  the  channels  of 
action  appropriate  to  the  kind  of  satisfaction  for  which 
they  stand.  Now  either  the  imaged  object  is  sufficiently 
real  in  its  connections  to  cause  motor  reactions,  in  which 
case  desire  is,  partially  at  least,  satisfied,  or  it  is  only  com- 
petent to  give  what  Ward  calls  "  incipient  action,"  i.  e.,  a 
tendency  to  react  which  is  held  in  check  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  object's  unreality.  In  this  latter  case  there  is 
continued  desire  and  a  second  element  is  reached,  i.  e.,  as 
inci2nent  motor  reaction  which  the  imaged  object  stimulates 
but  does  not  discharge. 

These  two  aspects  of  desire  are  equally  important.  And 
on  closer  view  we  see  that  the}^  stand  in  the  case  of  phys- 
ical desire  for  the  twofold  criteria  of  objective  reality  with 
which  we  are  now  familiar.  These  criteria  were  seen  to 
be,  first,  present  satisfying  quality;  and  second,  liability  to 
reproduction  at  the  terminus  of  a  voluntary  muscular  series. 
Now  desire,  as  appears  above,  arises  when  an  image  excites 
consciousness  as  these  criteria  would,  i.  e.,  suggests  satis- 
faction without  giving  it,  and  stimulates  a  muscular  series 
without  providing  it  a  terminus.  Or  put  as  a  single  for- 
mula, we  may  say  that  an  image  is  desired  when  it  suggests 
satisfactions  ichich  are  neither  immediately  present  nor 
available  by  volition. 

Physical  Basis  of  Desire.  The  conception  of  the  phys- 
ical process  underlying  desire  must  await  the  conception  of 
the  processes  which  underlie  the  perception  of  the  different 


338  STIMULI  TO   VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

kinds  of  reality.  If  the  sensational  reality  of  an  object 
reflects  itself  in  consciousness  through  a  certain  brain- 
process,  then  the  idea  of  that  object  would  rest  upon  a 
process  lacking  the  peculiar  element  which  stood  for  reality. 
The  motor  outlet  in  the  two  cases  is  the  same  :  for  the 
incipient  reaction  is  the  ordinary  reaction  which  the  object 
in  question  calls  forth,  except  that  it  is  incipient.  Physi- 
ologically, therefore,  desire  is  the  brewing  of  a  motor 
storm  :  the  beginning  of  what  is  to  be  when  the  discharge 
has  gathered  its  full  force  in  the  presence  of  the  real  object. 

§  3.  Motive. 

All  the  stimuli  to  voluntary  consciousness  now  discov- 
ered may  be  gathered  under  a  single  term,  i.  e.,  motive^ 
which  shall  denote  aiiy  influence  whatever  ichich  tends  to 
bring  about  voluntary  action.  Motives  are  seen  to  fall 
into  two  great  classes  according  as  they  represent  pictured 
objects  of  pursuit,  or  the  subconscious,  organic,  habitual, 
or  purely  affective,  springs  of  action  whose  main  influence 
is  the  coloring  they  give  to  consciousness  as  a  whole.  The 
former  class  of  motives  are  ends^  the  latter  affects.  No 
sharp  line  can  be  drawn  between  them  as  stimuli  ;  for,  as 
has  been  seen,  they  pass  constantly  into  one  another.  Yet 
in  consciousness  the  line  is  both  plain  and  important.  As 
will  appear  below,  it  is  only  ends  which  are  available  as 
distinct  lines  of  direction  for  volition,  in  definite  cases  of 
choice. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. ' 

So  far  the  springs  of  voluntary  action  have  been  ex- 
plored. What  do  these  springs  lead  to  ?  In  other  words, 
what  is  voluntary  action  ?  Confining  ourselves  as  before 
to  muscular  movement  we  find  two  great  kinds  of  expe- 
rience attaching  to  all  movements  which  we  are  willing 
to  claim  as  our  personal  performances.  These  we  may  call 
respectively  feeling  of  effort  and  feeling  of  consent.  We 
are  willing  to  claim  any  movements  of  our  bodies  which 
we  consent  to,  or  which  we  make  an  effort  to  bring  about. 
These  two  feelings  may  be  considered  more  closel}^ 

§  1.  Feelings  of  Effort  axd  Consent. 

What  is  meant  by  muscular  effort,  as  a  type  of  experi- 
ence, is  clear  when  we  examine  a  particular  act  of  volun- 
tary movement  :  say  lifting  the  arm  to  a  definite  height 
in  front  of  the  body.  Omitting  the  elements  already 
found  present  in  reactive  or  mechanical  movement,  two 
great  cases  of  effort  present  themselves — cases  which  we 
may  call  positive  and  negative :  effort  to  do,  and  effort  not 
to  do.  In  positive  effort  we  strive  to  bring  about  move- 
ment :  let  us  call  this  feeling  the^a^  of  will.  In  negative 
effort  we  strive  to  put  an  end  to  a  movement,  to  control  or 
suppress  it  :  this  we  may  call  t\\Qnegetoi  will.  For  exam- 
ple, I  am  charged  with  not  moving  a  paralyzed  arm,  and 
I  reply,  "  No,  but  I  tried  to  !  "  This  is  the  fiat.  A  child 
is  blamed  for  moving,  and  he  cries  ;  "  Yes,  but  I  tried 
not  to  !  "     This  is  the  neget. 

There  are  certain  new  factors  involved  in  a  fiat  of  will, 
factors  both  psychological  and  physiological. 

'  Of.  Handbook  of  Psycholorjy,  vol.  11.  chap.  xv. 


340  VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

Psychological  Elements  of  the  Fiat.  1.  First,  there  is  a 
conscious  selection  of  the  course  to  be  pursued.  I  agree 
with  myself,  as  it  were,  that  my  right  hand  is  to  be  raised, 
to  be  raised  so  higli,  so  high  in  front,  etc.  The  end  of  the 
desire  is  clearly  emphasized  and  cleared  of  all  extraneous 
uncertainties.  There  is  a  feelinsc  of  the  richness  of  alter- 
native  possibilities,  of  more  or  less  deliberation  upon  them, 
and  of  satisfaction  as  to  the  readiness  of  all  the  apparatus, 
as  far  as  my  selecting  activit}^  can  go. 

This  feeling  of  prej^aration  by  selection  and  exclusion, 
of  the  adoption  of  the  particular  alternative  for  realization, 
is  altogether  new  in  consciousness.  There  is  nothing  like 
it  in  simple  reactive  movements.  There  I  do  not  know 
the  real  nature  either  of  the  stimulus  or  of  the  movement 
till  the  reaction  is  an  accomplished  fact.  Here  I  know 
what  movement  I  am  to  make  and  why  I  make  it.  In 
sliort,  here  is  a  clear,  conscious  case  of  end  as  already  found 
in  desii-e  considered  as  stimulus  to  will  ;  a  sense  of  adopt- 
ing^ accepting,  ratifying  this  particular  end  as  my  own 
present  desire. 

When  the  muscles  have  not  before  been  voluntarily 
used  there  is  a  feeling  of  separateness,  aloofness,  from  the 
bodily  apparatus  ;  of  a  futile  attempt  to  select.  Let  the 
reader  try  for  tlie  first  time  to  move  his  ear.  We  feel  in 
this  case  that  we  could,  if  we  could  only  find  the  right 
button  to  press,  the  right  fulcrum  on  which  to  rest  the 
lever.  There  is  a  distinct  consciousness  of  search,  located 
in  the  side  of  the  head. 

2.  There  is,  second,  a  feeling  of  the  waxing  importance 
of  this  end  to  me  in  my  consciousness.  It  persists  steadily 
there,  grows  large,  overshadows  every  other  claimant.  It  is 
as  if  my  cheeks  were  being  distended  by  a  wind  from  within 
— larger  and  larger,  till  it  is  all  that  I  can  hold  :  but  still  I 
hold  it,  and  I  feel  that  I  alone  hold  it.  No  one  helps  me 
or  hinders. 

This  feeling  of  enlargement^  of  absorption  in  an  idea,  iti 


PSTCnOLOGICAL  ELEMENTS  OF  THE  FIAT.     U\ 

foiiiul  also  ill  the  reactive  consciousness.  Sometimes  an 
idea  emerges  uninvited  from  the  background  of  sensibility, 
and  stalks  boldly  before  the  footlights  of  consciousness, 
throwing  a  shadow  over  all  the  occupants  of  the  front 
rows — and  holds  me  against  my  will.  In  the  present  case, 
however,  there  is  a  coloring  of  feeling  flowing  forward 
from  the  end-feeling  (1,  above)  and  backward  by  antic- 
ipation from  the  fiat-feeling  (3,  below)  which  is  absent 
in  cases  of  involuntary  enlargement  in  consciousness. 

3.  The  feeling  of/a«— Let  it  be  !  Let  it  go  !  I  hold  it 
no  longer.  The  time  is  come  for  action  and  I  act.  Here 
the  feeling  is  absolutely  peculiar  to  the  voluntary  life.  It 
is  the  kernel  of  felt  self-agency.  The  outburst  of  the 
reactive  consciousness  is  accompanied  by  a  helpless,  run- 
away-horse feeling  :  but  here  the  outburst  is  felt  as  the 
urging  on  of  a  steed  well  under  rein.  This  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  volitio7i  proper. 

4.  A  feeling  of  control  over  the  muscles  :  of  ability  to 
reconsider,  to  withhold  the  fiat.  The  same  feeling  extends 
also  to  the  mental  flow. 

5.  A  feeling  of  antagonism  to  the  muscular  system.  *'I 
tried  to  "  is  urged  and  accepted  as  suflicient  answer  to  the 
charge  "  you  did  not  act."  James  has  called  this  element 
of  consciousness  the  "  dead  lift "  of  effort,  and  it  is  here 
tliat  effort  proper  seems  to  be  something  added  to  the  voli- 
tion-feeling. The  muscles  lie  like  lifeless  Avood  against 
the  outoroinor  of  one's  force.  It  carries  with  it  conscious- 
ness  of  difficulty,  resistance,  volition  and  yet  stronger 
volition,  with  the  felt  expenditure  already  characterized. 

6.  There  is  an  intensifying  and  enlarging  of  the  rela- 
tional complex  of  which  the  end  is  a  part.  By  acting  we 
hnow  more  about  the  act.  The  particular  reaction  gets 
itself  compared  with  others,  throws  light  on  the  actor's 
capacity,  precision,  strength,  and  forms  a  valuable  measure 
for  the  carrying  out  of  future  desires  of  a  similar  kind. 

7.  Finally,  we  have  distinct  sensations  of  movement  if 


342  VOLTTNTART  MOVEMENT. 

the  member  move  :  an  agglomerate  of  touch,  temperature, 
and  muscular  sensations.  In  normal  circumstances,  if  there 
be  no  actual  movement,  these  sensations  are  not  felt. 

Physiological  Accompaniments  of  the  Fiat.  On  the 
physical  side  we  find,  when  voluntary  reactions  are  well 
established,  certain  significant  facts. 

1.  An  enormously  increased  complexity  in  the  muscular 
ajDparatns  available.  This  is  in  most  striking  contrast  to 
the  simplicity  and  uniformity  of  reflex  and  impulsive 
movements.  The  latter  stimulate  particular  reactions 
which  are  repeated  in  fixed  and  comparatively  simple  nins- 
cular  arrangements.  Voluntary  movements,  on  the  con- 
trary, break  up,  redispose,  and  reunite  the  elements  of  these 
reactions  in  numberless  ways. 

2.  There  is  a  direct  increase  in  energy  available  in  the 
particular  muscles  toward  which  volition  is  directed. 
Muscles  can  do  more  work  when  they  are  voluntarily 
worked. 

3.  There  is  greater  rapidity,  definiteness,  and  precision 
of  reaction  here  than  in  impulsive  movements  ;  and  this 
gain  is  proportionate  to  the  sharpness  with  which  the  end 
intended  is  pictured.  More  muscles  become  available  by 
effort,  but  by  repeated  effort  fewer  become  necessar3% 
Repetition  tends  to  improve  a  voluntary  reaction  in  these 
respects,  since  it  tends  to  reduce  the  carrying  out  of  the 
pictured  end  to  the  type  of  a  compound  reflex,  the  volition 
only  serving  to  start  the  flow  of  nervous  energy  outward. 

4.  Tiiere  is  a  sustained  equilibrium  of  the  motor  a})pa- 
ratus  as  a  whole,  due  to  education,  and  no  longer  a  matter 
of  conscious  effort.  The  infant  must  learn  to  hold  his  head 
up  ;  and  that  the  adult  is  really  actively  engaged  in  holding 
his  head  up  all  the  time  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  it  falls,  he 
"nods,"  when  he  groAvs  drowsy.  So  the  body  is  in  a  state 
of  constant  muscular  tension  called  by  Beclard  "  static  con- 
traction." A  little  careful  attention  to  the  limbs  enables 
one  to  detect  these  conditions  of  tension,  and  release  them 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  AY  THE  XEGET.     343 

wlien  tliey  are  not  necessary.  One  lias  never  learned  to 
rest  properly  who  is  not  able  consciously  to  throw  his 
muscles  "out  of  gear,"  so  to  speak,  and  sit  or  lie  as  heavy 
as  a  piece  of  wood.  It  is  astonishing  how  much  strength 
is  gained  by  this  absolute  repose  of  the  muscles.' 

Psychological  Factors  in  the  Neget.  There  are  certain 
adde<l  elements  of  consciousness  involved  in  an  act  of 
negative  volition. 

1.  A  sense  of  strong  clash  and  conflict  between  a  present 
reaction  now  operating,  or  about  to  operate,  and  the  end 
which  I  desire  and  will.  It  is  more  positive  than  the  mere 
separation  felt  in  the  "dead  weight"  feeling.  In  this  case 
I  am  actively  opposed  :  I  do  not  urge  a  lazy  horse  on,  but 
I  rein  a  fiery  horse  in.  "  I  moved,  hut  I  tried  not  to^ 
This  is  negative  effort  proper. 

2.  When  it  is  a  voluntary  reaction  which  is  negated, 
there  is  a  feeling  of  "  calling  one's  self  oif,"  of  withholding 
the  nerve-energy  necessary  to  continue  the  function.  This 
is  negative  volition.  If  the  function  continue  it  is  invol- 
untary, and  I  oppose  it  by  "  negative  effort." 

3.  In  many  cases  there  is  a  feeling  of  helplessness  and  of 
casting  about  for  means  to  circumvent  and  prevent  the 
nervous  discharge  indirectly.  This  goes  perhaps  as  far  as 
an  appeal  to  others  to  hold  the  offending  limb  and  prevent 
its  reaction. 

4.  Finally,  there  are  sensations  from  the  stopping  of 
movement  in  the  muscles  and  joints. 

Physiological  Accompaniments  of  the  Neget.  The 
physical  machinery  of  negative  volition  is  :   1.  Tiie  stimu- 

'  The  general  realization  of  some  means  of  relieving  the  "  static 
contraction  "  of  the  average  American  would  be  a  public  gain.  The 
writer  gains  this  rest  by  fancying  himself  away  from  all  possible 
interruptions,  as  lying  on  shipboard  on  a  smooth  sea ;  it  is  greatly 
helped  also  by  consciously  imitating  the  appearances  of  sleep — breath 
by  slow,  deep  inhalations  and  quick  exhalations,  etc.  Every  five 
minutes  not  actively  occupied  should  be  seized  upon  for  such  relaxa- 
tion of  the  muscles. 


344  VOLUNTAnt  MOVEMENT. 

latioii  of  the  muscles  antagonistic  to  those  which  realize 
the  reaction  negated.  The  injured  party  who  will  not 
bow  to  his  enemy  on  the  street  "  leans  back  for  very 
straightness  "  :  when  we  determine  not  to  smile  we  produce 
a  contrary  grimace. 

2.  Experiments  show,  also,  a  direct  relaxation  of  the 
muscles  whose  reaction  is  negated. 

Feeling  of  Consent.  The.  feeling  of  consent  is  denied 
by  many  to  have  volitional  significance  ;  yet  the  fact  that 
it  always  involves  an  idea  or  end  and  indicates  an  active 
attitude  toward  this  end — that  is,  an  attitude  rather  than 
mere  apprehension  or  belief — controverts  this  view.  I  do 
not  consent  to  the  fall  of  the  Niagara  River  as  I  behold  it 
pouring  out  its  strength  ;  but  I  do  consent  to  my  child's 
going  to  see  it.  In  the  latter  case  there  is  a  clear  reference 
to  my  will. 

Summary  on  Muscular  Effort.  Gathering  up  the  ele- 
ments now  seen  to  be  present  in  effort  we  find  a  distinct 
consciousness  of  opposition  between  what  we  call  self  and 
nmscular  resistance.  Consciousness  is  unmistakable  on 
tliis  point.  In  the  reactive  consciousness  the  ego-feeling 
is  present,  but  it  is  of  an  ego  involved  in  the  general 
tendency  of  the  muscular  adjustments.  In  the  voluntary 
it  is  an  ego  which  inspects  the  movement  beforehand, 
selects  and  approves,  or  withholds  itself  and  condemns. 
Whatever  the  ego  be,  and  whatever  we  may  decide  as  to 
the  meaning  of  this  consciousness  of  opposition,  it  yet 
exists,  and  must  be  given  the  complete  recognition  due  to 
such  a  clear  empirical  fact. 

Muscular  Effort  and  the  Attention.  The  first  point 
mentioned  above,  as  characterizing  voluntary  movement, 
was  the  feeling  of  preparation  ;  i.  e.,  the  relating,  selecting, 
adopting  of  the  end  to  be  realized.  Now,  as  has  been 
shown,  tliis  selecting  of  one  of  many  presentations  takes 
place  only  in  the  attention  ;  it  is  either  itself  involuntary^ 
or  itself  a  fiat.     If  involuntary,  it  is  a  matter  of  reactive 


DEVELOPMEyr  OF  VOLUXTAUT  MOVEMEXT.     845 

conscionsncss,  in  wliich  case  the  resulting  reaction  in  move- 
ment is  involuntary  also.  When  a  man  acts  at  random, 
having  no  time  for  deliberation,  or  perhaps  no  information 
to  deliberate  on — throws  a  mental  penny,  so  to  speak,  to 
guide  his  choice — his  action  is  not  voluntary  at  all. 

In  all  voluntary  movement,  therefore,  there  is  an  earlier 
fiat  than  the  will  to  move,  ^.  e.,  the  fiat  of  attention  to  the 
particular  idea  of  movement.  In  general,  the  two  forms 
of  volition  may  be  clearly  distinguished  in  consciousness. 
I  may  attend  as  closely  as  I  please  to  an  idea  of  movement, 
keep  it  resolutely  before  me,  and  yet  not  reach  a  decision 
to  perform  it.  Yet  in  the  cases  in  which  I  do  reach  such 
a  decision  I  do  so  only  by  concentrating  my  attention  upon 
the  idea  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  When  I  am  not 
able  to  reach  a  decision  it  seems  to  be  due  to  a  defect  in 
ray  attention  ;  other  ideas  share  it  with  the  muscular  idea. 
Consequently  it  is  the  degree  of  preparation,  i.  e.,  volun- 
tary attention,  which  leads  to  the  expansion  of  a  presenta- 
tion till  it  so  fills  consciousness  as  to  overflow  in  volition. 
The  entire  question  as  to  what  volition  is,  is  accordingly 
thrown  back  upon  an  investigation  of  the  exercise  of 
voluntary  attention.  Voluntary  movement  is  only  a  par- 
ticular case  of  voluntary  attention. 

Development  of  Voluntary  Movement.  There  are 
three  stages,  therefore,  in  the  development  of  voluntary 
movement  :  1.  Voluntary  attention  to  a  presentation  which, 
in  turn,  stimulates  a  native  muscular  reaction.  This  is  the 
state  of  thinors  in  infants'  suororestive  and  imitative  reac- 
tions.  2.  Voluntary  attention  to  a  presentation  of  move- 
ment, which  stimulates  the  movement  presented.  This  is 
the  state  of  things  in  all  our  endeavos  to  learn  new  mus- 
cular combinations,  making  them  our  end.  3.  Voluntary 
attention  to  an  end  for  which  a  muscular  reaction  is  a 
necessary  means.  This  takes  us  back  to  the  first  state  of 
things  again.  By  the  process  of  learning  (2,  above)  we 
have  gained  new  adaptations,  and  by  repetition  they  have 


346  VOL XrNTARY  MO VEMENT. 

become  unconscious  means,  just  as  tlie  native  reactions  (1, 
above)  are.  So  in  writing,  for  example.  That  is,  we  find, 
tlie  organism  gives  us  so  much  (1),  we  improve  upon  it  by 
effort  (2),  and,  having  patented  our  improvements,  so  to 
speak,  we  liand  them  back  to  tlie  organism  again  (3). 

Theory  of  Innervation.  Any  theory  of  a  uniform  nerv- 
ous basis  of  will  admits  certain  points  ;  ^.  e.,  an  efferent 
process  following  upon  a  central  process,  this  efferent 
process  stimulating  a  muscular  reaction  which  is  reported 
in  turn  to  consciousness  by  an  afferent  process.  A  further 
question  arises  as  to  the  exact  locus  in  this  series  of  the 
feeling  of  effort.  Do  we  feel  effort  when  the  energy  of 
muscular  stimulation  gets  ready  to  leave  the  brain,  or  when 
the  incoming  processes  report  actual  movements?  Put 
technically,  are  effort-feelings  entirely  kincesthetic,  income- 
feelings,  or  do  they  involve  also  feelings  of  innerviation, 
outgo-feelings  ? 

Analogy  from  the  general  build  of  the  nervous  system, 
as  analyzed  above,  would  lead  us  to  look  for  an  element  of 
consciousness  from  the  outgoing  or  reacting  process  no  less 
than  from  the  incoming  or  receiving  process.  Evidence 
pro  and  con,  however,  cannot  be  presented  here.^ 

'  See  full  references  on  this  debate  in  Handbook  of  Psychology, 
vol.  ii.  pp.  349-350. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

VOLITION.! 

Purpose.  In  the  last  chapter  we  found  that  voluntary 
movement  is  only  a  particular  case  of  voluntary  attention. 
The  preparation  for  movement  involves  the  selection  of  a 
particular  presentation,  and  its  accomplishment  is  only  a 
matter  of  the  reiteration  of  this  selection  when  tlie  proper 
ideal  and  motor  conditions  are  present  and  fill  consciousness. 
For  example,  I  determine  at  twelve  o'clock  to  dine  with  a 
friend  at  six.  I  have  selected  and  willed  this  act ;  but  in 
the  mean  time  other  ideas — knowledge  of  the  hour,  present 
duties,  etc. — occupy  my  consciousness  with  the  intended 
act.  My  state  of  will  is  then  purpose  or,  when  it  represents 
a  more  permanent  element  in  character,  intention.  When 
six  arrives  these  presentations  foreign  to  my  purpose  disap- 
pear, the  dining  act  alone  persists,  fills  my  attention,  and  I 
walk  to  the  house  of  my  friend.  My  volition  at  six  repeats 
my  volition  at  twelve,  except  that  the  two  involve  a  some- 
w^hat  different  background  of  accompanying  consciousness. 
In  both  cases  I  give  myself  with  all  its  immediate  conse- 
quences :  in  one  case,  these  consequences  are  apparent  only 
in  my  mental  life  ;  in  the  other,  they  shed  themselves  out 
through  my  muscles  into  the  physical  world.  If  I  resolve 
to  break  into  a  house  I  am  a  burglar,  though  I  be  arrested 
before  I  move  a  muscle.  Hence  there  is  only  one  fiat,  one 
volition,  and  that  is  to  give  my  attention  to  a  presentation. 

§  1.  Voluntary  Attention  as  Choice. 

Law  of  Motives.     Volition,  considered   as    an    act   of 
attention,  always  involves  some  measure  of  division  in  con- 
»  Cf .  Handbook  of  PsycJwlogy,  vol.  11.  chap.  xvi. 

347 


S48  VOLITION. 

sciousiiess — some,  measure  of  confusion  clue  to  unadjusted 
claims.  The  various  classes  of  claims  which  are  to  be 
adjusted  in  an  act  have  been  pointed  out.  They  are  the 
springs  of  action  or  motives,  any  affective  tendencies  what- 
ever that  represent  active  conditions  of  consciousness.  Mj^ 
whole  personality,  as  has  been  made  clear,  is  an  expressive 
thing  :  its  expressive  side  is  as  real  and  elementary  as  its 
receptive  side.  Consequently  at  every  moment  the  man  is 
expressing  himself  somehow,  and  what  he  is  expressing 
is  the  outcome  of  all  the  elements  in  him  w^hich  seek 
expression. 

Farther,  the  whole  of  the  present  possibilities  of  the  man 
are  summed  up  in  these  tendencies  outward  :  they  represent 
his  entire  self  at  the  moment  that  he  acts,  i.  e.,  his  make-up 
as  the  present  conditions  of  his  environment  are  suited  to 
call  it  out.  Given  conditions  which  favor  the  expression 
of  a  number  of  his  motives  at  once,  and  they  all  clamor  for 
exclusive  recognition.  For  example,  a  brakeman's  hand  is 
freezing  to  the  iron  ;  intense  pain,  a  physical  spring  of 
action,  prompts  him  to  desert  his  brake.  But  he  quickly 
calculates  the  chances  of  collision,  or  an  open  bridge  : 
intellectual  motive  urging  him  to  remain  faithfully  at  his 
post.  And  with  this  last  there  come  the  picturing  of 
wounded  passengers,  the  cries  of  those  in  danger — a  new 
emotional  motive,  ^vhich  brings  with  it  a  warm  flood  of 
sympathy  leading  to  a  quick  and  easy  decision  on  the  side 
of  duty.  The  decision  is  the  man's  decision  ;  it  expresses 
the  nature  of  this  man  and  no  other  ;  and  it  is  the  outgoing 
of  his  nature  in  a  line  which  the  particular  circumstances 
open  to  him.  Accordingly  we  may  saj^,  first,  that  all 
volition  results  from  a  more  or  less  complex  aggregation  of 
motives ;  and,  second,  that  this  aggregation  of  motives 
exhausts  the  possible  alternatives  of  present  action. 

The  first  position  is  clear  from  the  analysis  of  the 
affective  basis  of  volition  above,  in  which  the  different 
stimuli  to  volition  were  pointed  out.     It  is  impossible  that 


NATURE  OF  MOTIVES.  349 

any  one  of  these  should  act  alone,  for  a  man  is  never  free 
from  his  body,  on  one  side,  or  his  higher  ideals,  on  another 
side,  or  his  emotional  tone,  on  a  third.  They  are  all  present 
always  in  normal  life. 

The  second  position  shows  us  that  any  doctrine  according 
to  which  a  man  can  transcend  his  motives,  hold  aloof  from 
them,  despise  and  reject  them,  simply  asks  us  to  chase  a 
fire-fly.  If  you  remove  a  man's  motives  you  remove  the 
man  ;  for  what  is  the  man  but  body  and  mind  ?  The 
whole  content  of  volition  disappears.  To  will  at  all  a 
something  must  be  willed,  but  this  something  is  a  pictured 
something,  bearing  some  relation  to  myself.  The  reason  I 
Avill  it  is  because  it  moves  me — is  my  motive.  Let  me 
picture  never  so  strongly  the  fabulous — the  utterly  unin- 
teresting and  indifferent — and  will  in  reference  to  it  is 
impossible.  I  can  never  make  new  motives,  nor  will  a  thing 
that  does  not  for  some  reason  find  a  responsive  echo  in  my 
breast. 

Nature  of  Motives.  It  is  also  plain  that  a  motive  is 
nothing  in  itself.  It  is  only  a  name  for  a  partial  expression 
of  the  nature  of  an  agent.  Consequently  motives  can  in 
no  sense  be  considered  as  forces  which  expend  their  ener- 
gies upon  the  will,  or  which  fight  each  other.  These  con- 
ceptions of  current  psychology  are  nothing  short  of  myths 
— myths  which  have  "  darkened  counsel  without  wisdom  " 
long  enough.  Apart  from  the  motives  there  is  no  will  to 
fight  against,  and  as  to  struggling  with  each  other — that 
would  mean  either  that  each  of  the  motives  had  a  will  of 
its  own  or  that  there  was  no  common  life  whose  full  real- 
ization is  the  best  satisfaction  of  them  all.  Here  is  a 
developing  principle — call  it  what  we  may — whose  different 
life-furthering  adaptations  represent  a  hierarchy  of  worths. 
One  wortli  is  chosen.  If  it  be  the  best  the  others  are  also 
furthered  with  it  by  their  very  denial  ;  if  it  be  lower  than 
tlie  best  it  suffers  with  the  others  through  its  gratification  ; 
both  because,  as  elements  of  a  common  life,  all  are  involved 


850  VOLITION. 

in  the  gratification  of  each.  How,  then,  can  they  be  con- 
ceived as  separate  entities  contending  in  a  theater  which 
is  cold  stone  to  all  of  them?  Rather  they  are  all  vital 
elements  in  the  functional  synthesis  of  a  living  conscious- 
ness. 

Effects  as  Motives.  Among  motives  two  great  classes 
have  been  distinguished,  affects  and  ends.  The  former  are 
immediate  influences  upon  the  will,  unpictured,  unreckoned, 
unavoidable.  The  latter  are  reflective  motives,  pictured, 
estimated,  subject  to  conscious  selection  or  rejection. 
Now  it  is  plain  that  these  two  classes  of  motives  stand  on 
very  different  planes  in  the  mental  life  as  regards  their 
volitional  worth.  If  all  volition  is  in  view  of  an  end,  then 
it  is  only  by  strengthening  the  influence  of  particular  ends 
that  affects  enter.  If  I  grow  greatly  excited,  for  example, 
over  a  particular  choice,  my  excitement  colors  my  choice 
only  in  so  far  as  it  presses  home  ujDon  me  one  alternative 
of  my  choice.  My  physical  health  alters  my  opinions  and 
reactions,  not  by  supplying  me  a  new  end,  but  b}^  bright- 
ening a  consideration  here,  dulling  another  there,  rendering 
the  attention  sluggish,  and  so  limiting  the  range  of  my 
consideration,  or  stimulating  it  greatly,  and  so  pitching  the 
entire  intellectual  play  at  a  higher  key.  What  actual 
volition  is  concerned  with,  therefore,  is  ends  and  ends  only. 

Volitional  Apperception.  How,  then,  does  an  end  pass 
into  a  volition — how  does  it  get  the  fiat  which  makes  it  an 
act  ?  Careful  questioning  of  consciousness  leads  us  to  see 
that  the  picturing  of  ends  is  in  no  respect  different  from 
the  picturing  of  anything  else.  It  is  an  ordinary  act  of 
apperception,  by  which  new  elements  of  conscious  content 
are  taken  up  in  an  integration  with  the  old  established 
complex  of  presentation.  The  new  end  gets  in  only  as 
far  as  it  is  adjusted  and  harmonized  with  old  ends  ;  the  old 
ends  themselves,  a  single  integrated  group,  take  on  a  new 
complexion  from  the  new  element  of  experience  thus 
absorbed.     The  attention  moves  throughout  the  series  of 


VOLITIONAL  APPERCEPTION.  351 

elements,  grasping,  relating,  retaining,  selecting,  and  when 
the  integration  it  effects  swells  and  fills  consciousness — that 
is  the  fiat.  Just  as  soon  as  the  elements  of  the  end-com- 
plex cease  to  act  as  partial  influences,  causing  the  move- 
ments of  attention  by  their  own  vividness,  and  the  atten- 
tion gets  its  hold  upon  its  integrated  content  as  a  grand 
related  situation,  the  fiat  goes  forth. 

For  example,  I  have  been  accustomed,  after  careful 
thought,  to  pursue  a  given  line  of  business  policy.  It  is 
tlie  outcome  of  all  my  thinking,  feeling,  and  past  action — 
an  integration,  a  motor  situation,  which  exhausts  my 
motives  and  represents  my  present  volitional  attitude.  A 
friend  gives  me  new  information  ;  it  gets  an  entrance  by 
its  own  intrinsic  hold  upon  my  attention  ;  it  becomes  an 
element  in  the  situation  ;  every  other  element  gets  a  new 
adjustment ;  and  when  I  make  up  my  mind  again,  get  con- 
trol of  the  situation  through  relative  stability  in  the  apper- 
ceptive outcome — then  I  am  at  once  in  action — my  fiat  is 
given. 

Now  no  one  end  has  brought  about  this  result.  I  do  not 
adopt  one  and  utterly  deny  others.  I  adopt  the  situation 
in  which  all  have  entered  and  to  which  they  have  given 
each  its  own  significance.  It  is  true  that  the  exigencies  of 
conduct  narrow  me  down  to  a  very  small  number  of  expres- 
sions. I  must  either  go  to  the  opera  or  stay  away.  But 
neither  alternative  represents  my  true  mind.  I  decide  to 
go,  provided ;  to  stay  away,  if;  and  whichever  I  do  it  is 
with  the  clear  consciousness  that  I  am  not  realizing  my 
ideal  volitional  situation  in  the  premises.  Instead  of 
indulging  one  of  my  ends  I  am  acting  on  a  compromise, 
which  really  satisfies  none. 

Volitional  apperception,  therefore,  differs  from  general 
apperception  onh^  in  its  explicit  motor  reference.  This 
reference,  as  has  been  seen,  is  present  in  all  apperception  ; 
no  state  of  consciousness  lacks  it.  But  when  I  have  action 
in  view  the  moving  quality  of  the  elements  of  my  synthesis 


352  VOLITION. 

is  more  felt.  Generally,  my  decision  is  simply  consent — 
the  passage  of  "  the  adopting  act."  I  consent  to  a  thing 
when  I  give  it  my  sanction.  This  is  volition  ;  but  not  as 
full  a  volition  as  the  volition  of  conduct.  When  I  know 
that  my  own  fate  is  involved,  that  it  is  I  who  must  act, 
there  is  a  fullness  of  emotional  warmth  and  reality  that  gives 
new  affective  coloring  to  the  ends  involved,  and  perliaps 
radically  alters  the  outcome. 

Controlling  Motive.  The  controlling  motive,  conse- 
quent! 3^,  is  tlie  motive  which  wins  the  fiat.  But  it  is  very 
difficult  to  find  anything  that  it  controls.  It  does  not  exist 
at  all  after  the  fiat,  for  the  outcome  of  the  fiat  is  a  new 
end  in  which  all  the  motives  have  entered.  So  it  does  not 
control  conduct,  which  is  the  expression  of  the  fiat.  For 
the  same  reason  it  does  not  control  the  volition  itself. 
Every  one  of  the  motives  is  controlling  in  the  same  sense, 
i.  e.,  of  entering  essentially  in  the  result.  The  only  advan- 
tage it  has  over  other  motives  is  that  it  becomes  the  final 
channel  of  expression  in  conduct,  an  advantage  denied  to 
them.  In  this  sense  it  controls  the  other  motives,  but  only 
in  this  sense. 

Deliberation.  The  state  of  division,  balance,  and  inde- 
cision described  is  ordinarily  called  deliberation.  Its 
nature  is  now  sufficiently  clear.  Its  duration  depends  upon 
the  complexitj^  of  the  considerations  which  arise,  the  even- 
ness of  their  motive  influence,  and  the  absence  of  pressing 
urgencj^  of  choice.  Individuals  vary  greatly  in  the  thor- 
oughness of  their  deliberative  processes.  As  a  rule,  delib- 
erate, slow  decisions  are  safest,  though,  as  has  been  seen, 
it  is  possible  that  an  unexpected  flash  of  conceptual  feeling 
may  carry  the  day  in  favor  of  an  unseen  aspect  of  truth. 
An  important  additional  motive  in  deliberation  is  the  state 
of  mind  called  caution,  arising  from  a  sense  of  the  danger 
of  hasty  decision. 

Choice.  Choice  is  the  fiat  itself — the  adopting  act — as 
it  terminates  upon  an  end.     It  is  volition  considered  not  as 


POTENTIAL  AND  FINAL  CHOICE.  353 

the  general  form  of  will,  whatever  content  it  may  be  exer- 
cised upon,  but  a  particular  volition  upon  one  of  alternative 
pictured  ends.  A  choice  is  always  a  definite  particular 
choice.  And  it  includes,  as  a  phenomenon  in  consciousness, 
the  feeling  of  the  continuance  of  the  partial  ends  which  enter 
in  deliberation.  It  does  not  quench  one  desire  to  resolve  to 
satisfy  another.  And  the  intellectual  act  of  apperception? 
whereby  the  course  chosen  is  constituted,  may  find  itself 
in  need  of  constant  reiteration  to  maintain  itself.  We 
need  to  be  constantly  reminded  of  the  reasons  of  our  faith 
in  order  not  to  lose  it.  The  greatest  moral  victories  are 
subsequently  lost  through  the  stolen  march  of  a  desire  or 
impulse  once  successfully  subdued.  Choice,  therefore,  is 
tlie  feeling  of  the  settlement  of  a  question  which  is  still  a 
possible  question.  It  is  a  volitional  declaration  with  a 
felt  interrogation.  As  soon  as  our  decisions  pass  out  of 
the  range  of  consideration  they  are  not  properly  choices 
any  longer  ;  they  become,  then,  elements  in  character. 

Potential  and  Final  Choice.  In  regard  to  the  perform- 
ance of  a  course  of  conduct  t\vo  stages  or  aspects  of  choice 
may  be  distinguished,  potential  and  final  choice.  By 
potential  choice  is  meant  a  man's  decision  as  far  as  it 
results  from  his  own  character,  disposition,  personal  prefer- 
ences, etc.  Potential  choice  covers  the  whole  range  of 
affective  motives,  the  dumb,  unpictured  influences  which 
get  in  their  work  silently.  It  includes  also  the  ends  which 
one's  own  character,  memory,  knowledge  supply  ;  in  short, 
it  represents  the  decision  I  reach  when  "  left  to  myself." 
It  is  potential  choice  that  we  feel  sure  about  in  reference 
to  our  friends  ;  it  is  more  approximately  a  constant  thing 
from  day  to  day.  It  represents  the  great  currents  of  our 
lives,  the  habitual  lines  of  activity,  opinion,  and  interest, 
of  which  more  remains  to  be  said  below. 

Final  choice,  on  the  contrary,  is  real  choice,  active 
choice,  acting  choice.  It  is  the  full  outcome  of  deliber- 
ation  frorn  whatever   sources   considerations   may   come. 


354  VOLITION. 

It  is  the  adjustment,  the  compromise,  as  it  was  called  above, 
of  all  the  actual  circumstances  of  the  case.  It  is  choice  as 
a  spectator  looks  at  it  and  asks,  what  did  he  do  ?  Not, 
what  did  he  personally  most  wish,  or  did  his  action  satisfy 
his  ideal  situation  ?  It  is,  further,  in  the  later  stages  of 
deliberation  that  potential  choice  suffers  the  revision  which 
makes  volition  actual.  It  is  brought  about  by  the  more 
unessential,  the  less  interesting  considerations.  Many  a 
fond  wish  is  murdered  by  the  present  demands  of  cruel 
circumstance.  It  is  also  here,  in  the  more  or  less  open 
interval  between  potential  and  actual  choice,  that  the 
estimable  qualities  of  open-mindedness  and  ingenuousness 
appear.  The  open-minded  man  is  receptive  to  new  sug- 
gestions, arguments,  and  emotional  appeals.  His  habits  of 
action  have  not  become  so  petrified  about  him  as  to  block 
up  the  channels  of  new  volitional  reaction.  Othcis  "  are 
not  so,  but  are  like  the  house  which  is  founded  upon  a 
rock."  Nothir]g  but  an  earthquake  can  shake  the  man 
whose  potential  equates  with  his  actual  choice  regularly. 

Feeling  of  Alternatives.  The  feeling  of  open  alterna- 
tives which  is  said  to  characterize  choice  rests,  when  an 
act  of  volition  is  closely  scrutinized,  in  one  of  two  places  : 
either  before  the  volition,  that  is,  during  deliberation,  or 
after  it.  Before  volition  the  possible  alternatives  are 
actually  present  as  candidates  for  the  position  of  control- 
ling motive.  We  know  that  one  of  them,  and  only  one, 
will  be  the  final  channel  of  expression.  Any  one  is  eligible 
for  this.  They  are  really  alternatives  also  in  the  sense 
that  the  outcome  is  not  yet  foreseen  ;  consciousness  has 
not  yet  reached  the  stage  at  which  there  is  any  outcome  at 
all.  But  these  two  considerations  exhaust  the  meaning  of 
felt  alternatives  before  volition.  This  feeling  is  further 
complicated  with  that  of  obligation. 

After  volition,  as  already  said,  the  motives  persist.  The 
circumstances  of  deliberation  throng  back  upon  us  ;  espe- 
cially after  a  hard,  long-fought  decision  do  we  live  b^ 


MORAL   CHOICE.  355 

retrospection  in  the  past.  But  further  than  this,  we  feel 
that  another  revision  is  possible  ;  that  new  light  may  come 
to  us,  and  our  decision  may  be  reversed.  Here,  again, 
tlierefore,  are  two  senses  in  whicli  alternatives  are  felt : 
one,  the  persistence  of  the  conditions  of  a  choice  already 
made,  the  Nachhlang  of  our  effort,  the  drifting  smoke  of 
the  battle-field  ;  the  other,  the  gathering  again  of  the  con- 
ditions of  choice,  tlie  preparation  of  a  new  issue.  This 
latter,  therefore,  is  identical  with  the  similar  feeling  before 
volition.  Accordingly  the  feeling  of  alternatives  is  always 
a  sense  of  contemporaneous  motives  or  of  reminisce?ices  of 
such. 

As  to  volition  itself,  however,  it  is  accompanied  by  no 
feeling  of  alternatives.  On  the  contrar}^  it  is  felt  as  a 
peculiarly  exclusive,  definite,  intolerant  thing.  It  ter- 
minates alternatives,  and  tills  consciousness  with  a  single, 
apperceived  presentation.  As  Ribot  phiases  it,  voluntary 
attention  is  a  state  of  moroideism.  If  I  attend  to  two 
things  at  once  it  is  because  I  will  both  things  ;  together 
they  give  the  end.  The  end  itself  is  one  and  undivided. 
This  cessation  of  deliberation  is  accompanied  by  an  emo- 
tional coloring  of  relief  which  is  highly  pleasurable ;  and 
it  is  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  unpleasant  tone  of  conflict 
Avhich  characterizes  indecision. 

Moral  Choice.  Moral  choice  involves  the  moral  impulse 
as  a  motive  principle.  In  decisions  in  which  moral  feelings 
are  not  involved  this  principle  is  practically  absent.  As 
soon,  however,  as  the  coefficient  of  the  right  in  conduct  is, 
or  is  likely  to  be,  disregarded,  a  new  coloring  is  given  to 
all  the  phases  of  the  act  of  volition.  In  addition  to  the 
consideration  of  expediency,  which  is  the  unwritten  law  of 
choices  morally  indifferent,  the  consideration  of  right  enters 
through  the  ethical  feelings.  Each  pictured  end  has  its 
value  as  relatively  fit  or  unfit  for  construction  in  an  ideal 
of  conduct. 

There   are  two   peculiarities   about   the    moral  motive^ 


356  VOLITION. 

however,  when  considered  as  entering  among  the  factors 
of  deliberation.  First,  it  is  not  itself  a  pictured  end 
alternative  to  other  ends.  We  have  found  that  the  moral 
ideal  is  not  presentable.  It  is  rather  realized  in  tlie 
relative  adjustment  of  other  ends  to  one  another.  Conse- 
quently the  moral  motive  is  not  realized  hy  withdrawal 
from  the  ordinary  conditions  of  action,  or  by  its  own 
abstract  pursuit  ;  it  does  not  present  for  itself  a  distinct 
channel  of  expression.  It  enters  to  dignify  and  justify  one 
of  the  ordinary  series  of  alternatives,  as  of  more  worth  in 
a  scale  of  moral  values. 

Second,  the  moral  motive,  as  said  in  an  earlier  connec- 
tion, carries  with  it  the  felt  authority  of  a  categorical 
imperative.  I  may  decide  on  the  expediency  of  a  course 
and  then  disregard  it,  with  no  blame,  no  remorse  ;  but 
when  I  decide  on  its  rightness  this  very  decision  is  a 
recognition  of  an  authority  beyond  which  there  is  no 
appeal. 

Choice  and  Habit.  In  the  sphere  of  volition,  as  else- 
where, the  law  of  habit  has  striking  applications.  Ends  tend 
by  repetition  to  coalesce  with  one  another.  Complex  scries 
of  volitions  become  so  closely  integrated  that  a  starting 
fiat  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  bring  about  a  series  of  well- 
adjusted  motor  reactions.  Here,  again,  two  great  views  of 
habituation  open  before  us.  First,  the  voluntary  shifting 
of  attention,  the  effort  to  select,  arrange,  accomplish, 
becomes  unnecessary  by  the  law  that  association  takes  over 
the  work  of  intelligence.  Thus  the  surface  of  conscious- 
ness is  made  more  calm  from  moment  to  moment,  and  the 
attention  is  left  free  for  new  fields  of  exploration.  Such  a 
combination  of  elements  in  a  single  voluntary  movement 
we  may  call  an  act.  Thus  opening  a  book  and  turning  to 
the  place  desired  is  an  act  ;  but  it  represents  innumerable 
efforts,  failures,  and  partial  successes  extending  over  years 
of  child  life.  An  act  is  what  was  called  in  an  earlier  con- 
peotion  a  "  motor  intuition."  * 

» Above,  p.  136. 


INTELLECTUAL  EFFORT:  ITS  FORMS.  357 

Second,  tliese  acts  get  segregated  in  like  manner ;  lose 
their  individuality  in  what  are  called  disposUio)is.  Our  acts 
grow  more  and  more  alike  ;  our  day's  devices  become 
routine  ;  our  satisfactions  vary  with  our  education,  and  fall 
back  under  the  lead  of  impulse.  Nothing,  in  short,  in 
w^hich  our  agency  is  involved  escapes  the  solidifying,  uni- 
fying effects  of  habit. 

The  result  is  that  ends  get  back  to  the  status  of  affects, 
and  our  voluntary  life  becomes  more  limited  in  the  range 
of  clear  consciousness.  Even  the  power  to  rebel  against  a 
habit  is  itself  a  matter  of  habit.  A  habit  is  hopelessly 
fixed  when  there  is  no  disposition  to  break  it  up. 

Hence  the  extreme  importance,  on  the  part  of  teachers, 
of  a  clear  understanding  of  the  laws  of  volition  in  its  early 
rise  and  progress.  Variety  should  be  everywhere  pro- 
vided in  the  tasks  for  children.  Choices  which  involve 
self-denial  should  be  dwelt  upon,  illustrated,  and  encour- 
aged. No  pains  should  be  spared  to  give  the  child  an  in- 
telligent view  of  the  claims  of  others  upon  him,  in  order 
that  the  habits  which  he  does  form  may  be  beneficent  and 
moral. 

Intellectual  Effort:  its  Forms.  Effort  to  accomplish 
an  intellectual  task  is  characterized  by  the  marks  already 
found  attaching  to  muscular  effort.  Indeed  the  latter  is 
but  a  particMlar  case  of  the  former.  The  effort  to  keep 
up  a  train  of  thought,  to  suppress  an  emotion,  to  bring 
order  and  coherence  into  the  mental  flow,  has  the  same 
feelings  of  fiat,  dead-lift,  resistance  already  found  in  the 
earlier  case.  If  we  can  manage  to  keep  the  attention  well 
fixed  upon  the  object  of  desire  the  battle  is  won — it  swells 
and  fills  consciousness,  and  w^ins  volition. 

Special  forms  that  more  intellectual  effort  takes  are 
resolution,  determmatio7i,  perseverance,  doggedness :  all  the 
manifestations  of  so-called  strength  of  will.  Tliey  all 
express  the  more  or  less  habitual  exercise  of  attention  as 
it  eains  control  and  comes  to  characterize  the  individual. 


358  VOLITION. 

They  refer  more  especially  to  potential  choice,  as  reflecting 
character. 

§  2.  Character. 

The  conception  of  character,  apart  from  the  metaphysics 
of  it,  properly  attaches  to  the  active  side  of  personality. 
It  means  the  essential  part  of  a  man,  that  which  is  most 
himself,  but  it  is  interpreted,  like  everything  else,  in  its 
expression.  Action  is  the  only  and  the  adequate  expression 
of  a  man.  So  character  means  the  present  agent,  the 
possible  actor.  The  notion  also  includes  the  idea  of  perma- 
nence. Character  is  that  expression  of  a  man  which  is  most 
constant,  habitual,  and,  in  consequence,  most  unconscious, 
unpremeditated,  genuine. 

Wiiile  the  most  permanent  expression  of  personality, 
nevertheless  character  is  not  a  stationary  thing.  It  is  a 
progressive,  developing  thing.  Especially  in  early  life 
the  change  and  development  of  character  are  superficially 
evident  and  present  the  only  adequate  statement  of  the 
problem  of  education.  As  has  already  been  seen,  the 
growth  of  mental  function  as  a  whole  waits  in  early  life 
upon  the  growth  of  the  phj^sical  organism  ;  in  later  life  it 
becomes  more  independent,  developing  under  the  law  of 
volition  ;  but  in  both  cases  it  is  still,  wdth  the  physical 
organism,  subject  to  influences  from  the  conditions  which 
envelop  the  personality  as  a  whole. 

We  ma}^  speak  of  the  "  innate  gift  of  nature  "  as  a  man's 
endowment,  that  wliicli  he  starts  with,  received  by  inlierit- 
ance.  It  includes  all  his  potencies  for  development  as  far 
as  they  can  be  conceived  apart  from  the  external  conditions 
in  which  alone  they  can  be  developed.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  sum  of  these  external  conditions  from  birth  upward, 
considered  as  influencing  character,  we  may  call  environ- 
ment. 

The  question  as  to  the  nature  of  present  character  is 
accordingly  this  :  what  is  the  law  of  the  development  of 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHARACTER.  359 

a  man's  eiulowiuent  in  relation  to  his  environment  ?  Two 
great  principles  already  arrived  at  find  further  applica- 
tion here,  i.  e.,  the  principles  of  adaptation  and  habituation. 

Development  of  Character  through  Choice.  It  is  bj^ 
choice  that  these  principles  get  their  application.  Choice 
plaj'^s  the  part  in  tiie  development  of  character  that  nervous 
reactions  play  in  the  development  of  the  sentient  organism. 
Nervous  reactions  were  found  to  be  to  a  degree  selective 
and  adaptive  ;  and  further,  it  appeared  that  such  adapta- 
tions become  fixed  in  structure  by  the  principle  of  habit. 
So  choice  is  selective  and  adaptive,  and  its  reactions  create 
tendencies  toward  those  habitual  performances  which  are 
the  outcome  of  character. 

It  is  in  final  choice  that  the  reaction  of  endowment 
upon  new  environing  conditions  becomes  evident.  A 
man's  potential  choice  represents  that  which  is  already 
in  him.  Any  modification  of  potential  choice  is  due  to 
influences  from  without,  to  environment.  The  consequent 
reaction  tends  to  identify  the  man  with  the  new  considera- 
tion before  foreign  to  him.  He  has  taken  it  up  in  his 
deliberation,  given  it  a  place  in  the  list  of  motives  which 
appeal  to  him,  and  thus  disclosed  a  desire,  whim,  prefer- 
ence, now  more  important  to  him  because  he  ^once  has 
harbored  it.  Character,  accordingly,  as  an  expressive 
thing,  has  thus  taken  a  step  in  its  development  through 
adaptation  to  its  social  environment. 

The  potential  choice  of  a  man  at  any  time,  therefore, 
represents  all  the  final  choices  of  his  past  life.  Each  link 
in  the  chain  of  volitions,  from  the  present  back  to  his  first 
exercise  of  choice,  has  involved  these  elements.  The  very 
first  act  of  choice  of  a  human  being  is  already  expressive 
of  the  accommodation  of  himself  to  his  circumstances. 
Indeed,  it  is  through  the  stress  of  circumstances,  through 
the  necessity  imposed  by.  muscular  resistances,  violent 
pains,  and  crying  appetites,  that  volition  in  the  first  place 
takes  its  rise. 


360  VOLITION. 

Further,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  environment  enters  in  the 
development  of  character  in  three  ways.  First,  the  way 
we  have  already  seen  ;  it  presents  new  ends  for  choice. 
Second,  it  becomes  a  conscious  influence  over  our  prospec- 
tive choices.  We  decide  our  questions  subject  to  future 
light,  circumstance,  fortune.  The  character  thus  grows 
pliable,  the  will  cautious,  action  hypothetical.  Tins  result 
of  environment  is  a  more  complex  and  refined  application 
of  the  law  of  Jiabituation.  Where  uniformity  of  experience 
prevails  action  grows  habitual.  Where  lack  of  uniformity 
prevails  distrust  and  caution  grow  habitual.  The  latter  is 
more  unusual,  since  uniformity  is  more  easily  seen  and 
accommodated  to  ;  but  it  is  equally  real — the  tendency  of 
reflective  thought  upon  the  relative  values  of  experiences, 
to  make  men  skeptical  in  their  opinions  and  unentliusiastic 
in  their  deportment.  It  simply  means  that  indecision, 
which  is  the  enemy  of  habit,  paralyzes  volition  ;  for  habit 
makes  volition  spontaneous  and  impulsive. 

Third,  the  principal  influence  of  environment  is  un- 
doubtedly before  and  during  the  early  rise  of  volition. 
In  very  early  childliood  authority  is  the  controlling  influ- 
ence in  molding  actual  choice,  and  thus  in  fixing  character. 
So  important  is  this  that  some  writers  find  in  the  "  word 
of  command"  the  foundation  of  all  subsequent  autliority, 
moral  as  well  as  legal.  However  this  maybe,  the  observa- 
tion of  children  shows  to  what  a  remarkable  extent  the 
authoritative  suggestion  of  a  parent  sets  the  inclinations 
and  forms  the  habits  of  his  child.  Even  in  the  matter  of 
physical  appetites  likes  and  dislikes  may  be  to  a  large 
extent  controlled.  Imitation  and  suggestion  start  reactions 
which  become  habitual.  The  unconscious  lesson  of  a  bad 
example  learned  by  a  child  from  his  father  is  one  of  nature's 
most  impressive  pieces  of  moral  instruction.  Moral  con- 
tagion of  character  is  as  direct  and  unconscious  as  physical 
contagion  of  disease.  Further,  early  social  conditions, 
family,  school,  and  play  associates,  create  a  milieu  which 


INlTtATlOJS'  OF  MOTIVES  BY  ATTENTTON.      3G1 

makes  endowment  practically  helpless  as  to  the  methods  of 
its  expression  during  the  early  years  of  life.  Educationally 
the  tremendous  influence  of  environment  is  the  more 
apparent  since  >t  is  just  at  this  period  that  the  child 
begins  to  reach  those  conceptions  which  serve  as  point  of 
departure  for  moral  feeling. 

§  3.  Initiation  of  Motives  by  Attention. 

Coming  closer  to  the  actual  method  of  voluntary  atten- 
tion, we  seem  to  find  a  wide  range  of  apparent  exceptions 
to  the  law  of  motives  as  now  stated.  The  attention,  we 
know,  intensifies  a  mental  state.  It  is  possible  simply  by 
dwelling  upon  a  consideration  to  increase  its  importance  to 
us,  to  give  it  preponderating  influence  in  our  deliberation, 
and,  finally,  to  convince  ourselves  of  its  supreme  desirable- 
ness. It  looks,  if  not  like  the  initiation  of  new  motives  by 
the  attention,  at  least  like  the  initiation  of  new  intensity  in 
old  motives.  This  effect  is  further  exaggerated  by  the 
fading  out  of  other  motives  in  consequence  of  the  with- 
drawal of  the  attention  from  them  in  favor  of  the  "star 
actor."  The  important  question  is  :  Is  this  exercise  of  the 
attention  itself  unniotived  ?  independent  of  the  conditions 
of  endowment  and  environment  already  pointed  out? 
This  question  must  be  answered  in  the  negative,  for  several 
reasons. 

1.  Such  a  result  often  follows  upon  the  involuntary  exer- 
cise of  the  attention.  By  a  sudden  stimulus  from  without 
the  attention  is  shifted,  leaves  the  chain  of  deliberation, 
dwells  upon  an  alternative  before  subordinate,  and  so 
changes  the  throw  of  volition.  A  burglar  greedy  of  gain 
contemplates  a  robbery,  but  a  harmless  noise  starts  associa- 
tions which  suggest  danger,  and  he  deserts  his  enterprise. 
Any  incident  which  arouses  the  attention  from  its  line  of 
easiest  passage,  and  gets  it  concentrated  upon  a  different 
train,  is  apt  to  modify  choice.  So  lawyers  aim  to  divert 
the   attention   of   jurymen  from  the  claims  of  mercy  by 


362  VOLITION. 

exhibiting  bloody  weapons,  dwelling  upon  terrible  inci- 
dents, and  thus  getting  the  attention  under  the  lead  of 
strong  emotion.  In  these  cases  there  is  clearly  no  factor 
apart  from  the  environment  and  the  elements  of  character 
which  respond  to  it. 

2.  It  seems  possible  to  divide  all  cases  of  such  apparent 
initiation  of  motive  intensity  into  two  classes  :  one,  the 
cases  of  involuntary  attention  mentioned,  and  the  other, 
cases  of  deliberation.  If  I  have  no  intention  at  all  in  the 
matter,  no  trace  of  preference  for  the  motive  whose  inten- 
sity is  strengthened,  then  it  is  clearly  involuntary — a  matter 
of  the  reactive  consciousness.  But  as  soon  as  any  such 
preference  comes  in — any  physical,  mental,  or  emotional 
motive  for  wisliing  to  intensify  this  particular  alternative — 
then  my  choice  is  already  made,  and  I  am  fooling  myself 
in  thinking  that  I  am  reaching  an  unbiased  decision. 
Most  of  the  instances  are  of  this  latter  kind.  They  are  the 
becoming  conscious  of  the  great  class  of  volitional  stimuli 
already  described  as  affects.  Habit,  for  example,  becomes 
conscious  in  its  influence  on  volition  ;  vague  physical  and 
emotional  states  which  are  never  distinguished  from  the 
fundamental  tone  of  our  personality  reveal  themselves  thus, 
as  elements  of  it. 

Hence  we  may  conclude  that  this  phenomenon  is  only  a 
phase  of  the  general  mystery  of  attention.  By  attention 
deliberation  takes  place,  and  choice  is  the  outcome  of  this 
deliberation.  When  we  are  absolutely  outside  the  range 
of  deliberation,  instead  of  finding  ourselves  in  the  presence 
of  altogether  unconditioned  activity,  we  only  revert  back 
to  activity  of  the  reflex  type. 

§  4.  Freedom  of  the  Will. 

In  the  light  of  the  foregoing  the  problem  of  the  freedom 
of  the  will  takes  at  least  an  intelligible  form  of  statement. 
Freedom  of  the  man  is  perhaps  a  better  way  of  stating 
it.     Yet  the  term  freedom  suggests  a  comparison  with  the 


inDETERMimSM.  363 

conditions  of  physical  causation  which  is  essentially  mis- 
leadino^.  The  statement  of  the  followinsj  alternative  views 
may  suffice  to  bring  out  the  real  i)oint  at  issue  in  the  free 
will  controversy. 

I.  Indeterminism.  On  this  view  of  volition  choice  is 
absolutely  unconditioned.  The  will,  or  the  agent  through 
the  will,  asserts  itself  as  it  sees  fit  :  it  is  in  no  way  condi- 
tioned either  upon  motives,  brain  activities,  or  external  cir- 
cumstances. Pure  indeterminism  is  also  called  accidentalism. 
In  opposition  to  such  a  view  of  volition  it  may  be  said  : 

I.  It  is  altogether  unpsychological.  The  most  thorough 
search  of  consciousness  discovers  no  such  cases  of  abso- 
lutely unmotived  choice.  2.  It  leads  logically  to  one  of 
two  alternatives  :  either  the  will  has  no  relation  whatever 
to  its  social  and  physical  environment,  in  which  case  it  can 
have  in  turn  no  influence  of  any  kind  upon  it,  or  it  moves 
by  chance,  whim,  caprice,  which  if  true  would  violate  the 
uniformity  and  stability  of  character.  3.  It  is  altogether 
unnecessary  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  usually  urged, 
i.  e.,  in  the  interest  of  moral  responsibility  and  obligation  ; 
for  an  unrelated  will  would  be  responsible  to  no  authority, 
and  a  will  that  moved  by  chance  would  know  no  law.  In- 
determinism is  claimed  chiefly  by  those  who  fail  to  see  that 
in  holding  volition  to  be  motiveless  they  cut  off  the  agent 
himself  from  all  voluntar}^  expression. 

II.  External  Determinism ;  the  view  of  all  those  who 
by  aii}^  method  bring  volition  within  the  chain  of  natural 
cause  and  effect  ;  all  who  hold  that  there  is  no  activity  in 
the  voluntary  or  relational  consciousness  not  reducible  to 
motive  forces.  On  this  view,  that  is,  motives  are  forces  in 
reference  to  one  another,  effects  in  reference  to  the  brain  in 
which  they  have  their  causal  support  :  volition  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  outcome  of  a  conflict  of  forces.  It  is  part 
of  the  "epiphenomenon"  theory  of  consciousness  already 
explained.     This  theory  in  turn  evokes  several  criticisms. 

1.  The  theory  begs  the  difiiculty  oi  p.jssing  from  the 


364  VOLITION, 

external  to  the  internal — from  a  brain  process  to  conscious- 
ness. It  forgets  that  this  gulf  has  not  been  crossed.  To 
assume  a  uiiiform  psyclio-physical  connection  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  assuming  that  consciousness  is  an 
epiphenomenon.  If  determinism  ever  be  established  at  all 
it  ^\\\  be  a  determinism  which  reduces  volition  to  other 
states  of  consciousness,  not  one  that  presumes  to  blot  out 
consciousness  altogether. 

2.  After  we  get  in  consciousness  we  have  no  right  to 
apply  the  law  of  physical  causation  to  motives.  It  is  a 
most  wanton  assumption  from  every  point  of  view,  except 
that  of  physical  analogy.  Motives  persistently  elude  the 
application  of  the  sj^mbolism  of  natural  causation.  Where 
in  the  play  of  motives  is  the  law  of  resultant  ?  Statistics 
showing  uniformity  of  marriages,  crimes,  etc.,  in  a  com- 
munity, simply  prove  that  men  have  a  common  nature,  and 
are  appealed  to  b}''  common  motives  ;  and  that  variations 
of  choice  positive  and  negative  equate  with  each  other. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  number  of  drowning  accidents  on 
the  seacoast,  and  it  would  be  just  as  logical  to  claim  that 
all  who  were  drowned  were  pushed  into  the  water  and  held 
under  as  to  claim  that  uniformity  in  the  aggregate  indicates 
cause  and  effect  in  individual  choice. 

3.  Physical  causation  presents  us  no  analogy  to  the 
selecting,  intensifying,  abbreviating,  and  synthesizing 
activity  of  attention.  As  far  as  the  analysis  of  pln^siolog- 
ical  function  has  gone  reflex  action  is  its  purest  type  ; 
yet  even  in  the  cerebral  processes  which  underlie  volition 
directive  modifications  of  the  reflex  have  to  be  presupposed. 
Even  though  the  law  of  conservation  sweep  through  the 
brain,  as  we  hold  it  does,  yet  it  is  onh^  when  selective 
consciousness  is  present,  and  presumably  because  it  is 
present,  that  the  resulting  reactions  are  what  they  are.  In 
order  to  prove  the  position,  apperception  would  have  to  be 
reduced  to  association,  and  association  made  a  function  of 
ceiebral  dynamics  only. 


IMMANENT  DETERMINISM.  365 

4.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  know  no  external  influence 
which  can  compel  the  will.  When  we  do  influence  another 
it  is  by  previous  knowledge  of  his  inner  character — the 
mental  habits  spoken  of  ;  but  that,  at  its  best,  is  by  no 
means  a  certain  device.  It  is  true  that  if  there  were  no 
other  consideration  against  motive  determinism  this  fact 
might  be  considered  due  to  the  complexity  of  the  forces 
involved  ;  but  in  the  fact  of  the  conscious  synthesis  of 
choice  it  seems  to  have  a  readier  explanation. 

III.  Immanent  Determinism.  This  doctrine  holds  that 
there  is  in  man  a  principle  of  realization — the  realization 
both  of  himself  and  of  an  universal  consciousness  through 
him.  In  volition  this  principle  attains  advancement.  The 
innermost  nature  of  a  man  is,  therefore,  necessarily 
expressed  in  every  act  of  choice.  It  is  a  free  expression  of 
what  the  man  is,  and,  consequently,  of  all  that  he  repre- 
sents as  part  of  the  world  ;  but  it,  at  the  same  time, 
unconsciously  realizes  a  broader  development  in  which  all 
individuals  are  factors. 

As  far  as  this  theory  is  psychological  it  is  tenable. 
Whatever  is  immanent  must  be  included  in  the  nature  of 
that  in  which  it  is  immanent  :  so  volition  is,  after  all,  for 
psychology,  simply  the  expression  of  the  nature  of  the  man 
himself.     It  is,  however,  a  metaphysical  doctrine. 

IV.  Freedom  as  Self-Expression.  Our  view  is  now 
narrowed  down  to  very  strait  limits.  The  considera- 
tion of  motives  has  led  to  several  determinations :  1. 
Choice  is  never  motiveless.  2.  The  end  chosen  is  always 
a  synthesis  of  all  present  motives,  and  is  adequately 
expressed  by  no  one  of  them.  3.  This  synthesis  is  an  activ- 
ity sui  generis:  it  finds  no  analogy  in  the  composition 
of  physical  forces. 

These  positions  find  their  only  explanation  in  the  sup- 
position that  the  existence  back  of  choice  includes  in  its 
own  nature  both  the  motives  and  the  volition.  The  mo- 
tives do  not  grow  into  volition,  nor  does  the  volition  stau4 


366  VOLITIOK 

apart  from  tlie  motives.  The  motives  are  partial  expres- 
sions^ the  volition  is  a  total  expression  of  the  same  existejice. 
How  tlie  motives  pass  into  or  stimulate  volition — that  is  the 
law  of  mental  development.  The  relation  of  this  law  to 
brain  development  is  again  a  higher  exhibition  of  that  psy- 
cho-physical connection  Avhich  has  been  assumed — a  connec- 
tion which  is  real,  butwhich  yet  does  not  prejudice  the  laws 
of  development  on  one  side  or  the  other.  As  lias  been  said, 
this  seems  to  point  to  some  underlying  unity  in  M'hich  the 
antithesis  between  the  mechanism  and  volition  is  resolved. 

Freedom,  therefore,  is  a  fact,  if  by  it  we  mean  the  ex- 
pression of  one's  self  as  conditioned  by  past  choices  and 
present  environment.  It  is  not  a  fact  in  any  sense  which 
denies  that  volition  is  thus  conditioned,  hrst,  upon  the 
actual  content  of  consciousness  as  it  swings  down  the  tide 
of  the  personal  life  and  presses  outward  for  motor  expres- 
sion ;  and  second,  upon  the  environing  circumstances  which 
draw  the  motor  consciousness  out.  Free  choice  is  a  syn- 
thesis, the  outcome  of  which  is,  in  every  case,  conditioned 
upon  its  elements,  but  in  no  case  caused  by  them.  A 
logical  inference  is  conditioned  upon  its  premises,  but  it  is 
not  caused  by  them.  Both  inference  and  choice  express 
the  nature  of  the  conscious  principle  and  the  unique 
method  of  its  life. 

Peeling  of  Freedom.  The  feeling  of  freedom  seems  to 
be  made  up  of  two  other  feelings  about  equally,  i.  e.,  the 
feeling  of  alternatives  and  the  feeling  of  agency  or  power. 
The  latter  is  rather  a  felt  reminiscence  than  a  state  of 
original  sensibility.  It  rests  largely  upon  memory  of  past 
stimulations  or  inhibitions  of  the  movements  now  alterna- 
tive to  one  another.  Preyer  holds  that  there  is  true  will 
only  when  there  is  positive  inhibitory  power  over  the 
movement  in  question  in  each  case.  This  is  clearly  not  the 
case  in  imitative  volition,  when  the  movement  is  attempted 
for  the  first  time  :  but  yet  in  these  cases  past  volitions 
of  other  movements  are  sufficient  to  give  the  memory  of 


EFFECTS  OF  VOLITION.  367 

power.  It  is  probable  that  this  feeling  of  power  or  agency 
gets  rapidly  generalized  away  frona  muscular  movements  in 
particular,  to  alternative  ends  to  which  muscular  reactions 
are  only  means.  The  feeling  of  alternatives,  as  has  been 
seen,  also  goes  before  volition,  or  is  also  due  to  reminiscence. 
Hence  the  feeling  of  freedom  is  subject  to  the  criticism 
alread}^  urged  against  the  sense  of  alternatives  :  it  depends 
upon  the  division  in  consciousness  which  I  feel  it  is  for 
myself,  my  own  apperceptive  activit}'^,  to  solve  in  the 
future.  At  the  moment  of  volition  there  is  no  feeling  of 
freedom.  Rather,  when  the  fiat  goes  forth,  there  is  a  sense 
of  irrevocableness,  of  once-for-all  conclusiveness — a  feeling 
of  having  thrown  one's  self  over  a  moral  precipice. 

Feeling  of  Responsibility .  As  soon  as  an  act  has  taken 
place  a  new  phase  of  feeling  arises,  that  of  responsihility . 
It  arises  only  when  the  stimuli  to  will  have  been  stamped 
with  the  seal  of  one's  private  ownership.  I  do  not  feel 
responsible  for  my  desires,  impulses,  emotions,  except  as 
far  as  I  have  ratified  them  at  some  time  by  my  choice. 
Responsibility  is  a  feeling  of  a  past  explicit  choice,  just  as 
freedom  is  the  feeling  of  the  possibility  of  such  a  future 
choice.  As  attaching  to  all  final  choice,  this  feeling  is 
called  natural  responsibility.  It  is  only  the  sense  of  owner- 
ship in  the  deed  and  its  consequences.  When  the  motive 
conditions  include  a  command  imposed  by  an  external 
authority  it  becomes  legal  responsibility  ;  when  the  imper- 
ative of  duty  is  a  felt  condition  in  the  decision  it  is  moral 
responsibility.  The  feeling  of  moral  responsibility  for 
wrongdoing  passes  quickly  into  remorse. 

§  5.  Effects  of  Volitiox. 

Expressive  Effects.  The  immediate  effects  of  voluntary 
attention  have  already  been  briefly  mentioned.  Physio- 
logically, we  find  certain  sensations  of  concentration  in  the 
head,  principally  at  the  sense-organ  through  which  the 
stimulus  is  received.     The  skin  of  the  head  is  drawn  for- 


368  VOLITION. 

ward  and  knotted  on  the  forehead,  in  visual  attention. 
^Experiments  show  an  increase  in  the  blood  supply  in  the 
organ  attended  to.  In  attention  to  a  picture  of  imag- 
ination, or  in  attentive  thought,  the  eyes  roll  upward  and 
around,  and  there  is  a  feeling  of  exploration  or  searching 
in  the  back  of  the  skull.  In  strong  effort,  moreover,  there 
is  a  setting  of  the  epiglottis  and  a  compression  of  the  jaws. 
All  these  indications  are  additional  to  the  explosive  or 
inhibitive  effect  to  which  the  effort  itself  is  aimed,  and 
which  it  in  so  far  accomplishes. 

These  expressive  changes  are  rather  the  accompaniments 
than  the  effects  of  attention.  They  bear  much  the  same 
relation  to  volition  that  emotional  expression  does  to 
mental  excitement.  They  are,  in  the  main,  common  to 
reflex  and  voluntary  attention  and  can  be  artificially  pro- 
duced. A  brainless  animal  can  be  stimulated  in  such  a 
way  as  to  show  the  expression  of  high  attention. 

Effects  Proper  The  more  legitimate  effects  of  volun- 
tary attention  are  the  muscular  contractions  and  inhibitions 
which  follow  it.  Attempts  are  being  made  to  bring  these 
also  under  the  conquest  of  artificial  production,  the  belief 
being  that  volition  as  a  self-determining  thing  will  then  go 
to  the  wall.  Fere  claims  that  the  increase  in  force,  rapidity, 
and  precision  of  movements  voluntarily  attended  to  ma}^ 
be  brought  about  by  mechanical  means  (weights,  high  air- 
pressure,  lying  posture,  etc.),  the  additional  force  coming 
from  other  parts  of  the  system.  Beclard  contends  that  the 
extremest  muscular  tension  is  found  in  the  immobility  or 
static  contraction  characteristic  of  voluntary  attention,  and 
that  the  attention  is  this  extreme  expenditure  of  nervous 
force  ;  he  points  to  the  fact  that  the  diffusion  and  repose 
of  attention  is  at  once  the  relaxation  of  all  muscular  con- 
traction down  to  the  complete  inactivity,  on  both  sides, 
seen  in  sleep.  Loeb  and  others  find  that  when  definite 
motor  centers  are  destroyed  there  is  a  prolonged  period  of 
inertia  in  the  limbs  affected  j  more  voluntary  effort  has  to 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL.  369 

be  made  to  move  them.  This  is  held  to  indicate  that 
effort  is  the  drawing  of  nervous  forces  from  other  regions. 
Chauveaii  finds  it  possible  to  produce  the  voluntary  co-or- 
dinations of  movement  in  walking,  in  animals,  by  stimulat- 
ing certain  sensor  nerves. 

As  to  the  experimental  endeavor,  there  is  no  reason  that 
it  should  not  be  to  some  degree  guccessful.  Why  should 
not  there  be — indeed,  must  there  not  be  ? — a  physical 
antecedent  to  every  such  physical  change  ?  and  why  may 
not  physiology  in  some  cases  discover  it  ?  But  w^hen  there 
is  such  an  artificial  production  of  the  effects  of  attention, 
what  does  it  prove  concerning  volition  ?  It  only  proves 
that  conservation  holds  in  brain  activities,  a  position  readily 
enough  admitted.  Volition  might  be  the  one  law  of 
mental  development  still,  on  either  of  the  hypotheses 
already  advanced  to  explain  the  relation  of  consciousness 
to  the  nervous  system.* 

Physical  Control.  The  extremely  complex  system  of 
checks  and  counter-checks  which  we  call  physical  control, 
in  adult  life,  has  had  a  slow  development.  Assuming  the 
directive  influence  of  consciousness,  becoming  explicit  in 
the  early  efforts  of  an  infant,  we  find  that  it  avails  itself  of 
the  general  sensori-motor  law  already  noted  under  the  head 
of  suggestion.  The  basis  of  all  consists  in  spontaneous, 
reflex,  and  instinctive  movements.  Such  movements,  when 
painful,  tend  to  subside  by  the  immediate  inhibitive  effect 
of  pain.  When  pleasurable,  by  a  parallel  law,  they  tend 
to  continue.  Thus  a  link  is  formed  between  sensation  and 
movement  whereby  memories  of  pleasures  and  pains  become 
stimulants  to  adaptive  reactions.  Such  a  primitive  law  of 
self-preservation  is  seen  in  lower  orders  of  life,  where  there 
is  no  deliberative  choice,  and  where  the  conditions  are  such 
tliat  a  very  narrow  range  of  adaptations  sufiices  to  continue 
the  creature's  existence.  But  with  the  human  infant  this 
is  altogether  insufticient.  Tiie  extraordinar}^  complexity  of 
the  life  for  which  he  is  destined  renders  necessary  a  mus- 
^  Above,  chap.  v.  §  4. 


370  VOLITION. 

cular  pliability  which  cannot  wait  upon  the  exigencies  of 
accidental  or  instinctive  motor  experience.  Hence  his 
long  infancy  is  spent  in  strenuous  effort.  To  his  natural 
aversion  to  pain  he  adds  deliberate  contrivance  to  avert  it  ; 
to  suggestion  he  adds  persistent  imitation  ;  to  experience 
he  adds  voluntary  experiment.  And  all  his  education  is 
supported  by  instruction  from  without.  The  muscular 
system  is  thus  brought  under  voluntary  control  generally, 
so  far  as  to  subserve  the  demands  of  life  ;  and  in  particular 
directions,  farther,  as  employment  or  preference  demands  it. 

Such  control  extends  to  the  inhibition  in  part  of  many 
reflex  functions,  such  as  coughing,  sneezing,  shivering,  etc., 
reaches  to  some  few  of  the  automatic  processes,  and  tends 
to  break  up  instincts  and  dispose  their  elements  differently. 
Only  those  muscles  are  available  for  will  which  have 
organic  connection  with  the  cerebrum.  Some  of  the  avail- 
able muscles  of  the  body,  however,  never  come  under  vol- 
untary control,  because  they  are  not  of  use.  For  example, 
the  muscles  of  the  ear  may  be  made  available  for  moving 
the  ear  voluntarily  after  repeated  effort. 

Moral  Control.  Similarly  the  impulses  and  desires  are 
brought  under  a  law  of  reasonable  activity.  The  lawless 
indulgences  of  childhood  partly  correct  themselves  by  their 
natural  penalties.  But  in  this  sphere  conflicts  between 
immediate  and  remote  results  render  the  pleasures  and 
pains  of  experience  altogether  inadequate  as  a  guide  of  life. 
The  balancing  of  results  which  is  the  slow  work  of  pru- 
dence is  supplemented  by  the  counsels  and  forced  precepts 
of  teacher  and  parent.  Obedience  is  the  schoolmaster  to 
self-restraint.  And  graduall}^  reverence  for  persons  be- 
comes reverence  for  moderation,  and  obedience  passes  into 
prudential  control.  Moral  control  is  in  its  development 
closely  connected  with  prudential  ;  but,  as  has  been  seen 
above,  it  finds  its  law  of  operation  in  the  moral  imperative 
which  sets  its  own  type  of  obedience  and  administers  its 
own  sanctions. 


BATIOXAL  ASPECTS  OF  VOLITION.  371 

Further,  just  as  physical  coKtrol  passes  into  the  state  of 
subconscious  innervation  and  contraction  necessary  for 
the  uprightness,  due  balancing,  and  habitual  adjustments 
of  the  body,  so  with  mental  and  moral  control.  The 
well-harmonized  mental  life  is  a  life  of  regulated  flow  : 
imagination  is  adjusted  to  fact,  association  held  in  to  the 
requirements  of  logical  procedure,  emotion  restricted  to  its 
due  impelling  influence,  will  moderated  by  deliberation. 
All  this  is  a  gradual  outcome,  and  the  final  result  takes  its 
coloring  from  the  degree  of  mental  equilibrium  we  con- 
sciously attain  by  our  individual  choices  and  efforts. 
Volitions  conform  more  and  more  to  the  rule  of  a  guiding 
intention,  right  or  wrong.  Just  as  in  the  sphere  of  sen- 
suous feeling  there  is  a  fund  of  common  fixed  sensibility, 
coensesthesis,  so  in  the  mental  sphere  we  find  a  similar 
fund  of  relatively  permanent  will-stimulus,  a  conceptual 
coenaesthesis,  so  to  speak,  or  temperament.  Thus,  also, 
moral  choices  become  habitual,  and  rightness  of  choice 
passes  into  virtue  of  character. 

§  6.  Rational  Aspects  of  Volition. 

Intuition  of  Power.  The  rise  of  the  intuition  of  power 
has  already  been  briefly  indicated.  The  above  analysis  of 
effort  reveals  to  us  the  concrete  fact — voluntary  attention 
— in  which  it  ultimately  rests.  Whatever  their  metaphj^s- 
ical  validity  may  or  may  not  be,  we  reach  the  ideas  of 
self-agency  and  other-agency  through  efforts  of  our  own 
against  resistances.  Just  as  space  and  time  are  revealed 
as  intuitions  through  intellectual  synthesis,  and  just  as 
ideals  are  felt  apprehensions  of  truths  which  lie  beyond 
intellectual  construction,  so  in  volition  we  must  recog- 
nize a  regulative  principle  of  agency,  or  jyower,  which 
is  the  essence  of  experiences  characterized  by  the  term 
"  will." 

Intuition  of  Obligation.  The  categorical  nature  of  the 
feeling   of   obligation   has   also   been   noted   above.     We 


372  VOLITION. 

found  that  duty  was  imperative  and,  in  its  form  of 
command,  universal.  In  other  words,  obligation  is  a 
regulative  and  constitutive  principle  of  the  activity  of 
will.  Given  the  right,  the  must  of  our  obligation  to  per- 
form it  is  the  most  unequivocally  binding  thing  that  we 
mortals  know. 


THE    END. 


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* James  Mill.     A  Biography.    With  portrait.     12mo.     498  pp. 

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Translated  with  the  author's  co-operation  by  Prof.   A.  C.  Arm- 
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*Hillebrand's  German    Thought.     From    the    Seven  Years'  War  to    , 
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^Holland's  Bise  of  Intellectual  Liberty,  from  Thales  to  Copernicus.     A 
History.     By  Frederick  May  Holland.     Svo.    458  pp. 

Hyde's  Practical  Ethics.    By  Pres.  Wm.  De  Witt  Hyde  of  Bowdoin. 
12mo.     219  pp. 

James'  Principles  of  Psychology— Advanced  Course.     By  Prof.  Wm. 
James  of  Harvard.     2  vols.     Svo.     701  +  710  pp. 

Psychology— Briefer  Course.     12mo.     491  pp. 

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HEKRV  HOLT  b'  CO." S  WORKS  ON  PSYCHOLOGY,  ETC. 


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*Maude's  The  Foundation  of  Ethics  By  John  Edward  Maude, 
M.A.     Edited  by  Prof.  Wm.  James  of  Harvard.     12mo.     224  pp. 

^Mill's  Three  Essays  on  Religion,  and  Berkeley.  By  John  Stuart 
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* The  Autobiography.     8vo.     319  pp. 

Dissertations  and  Discussions.     5  vols.     Svo.    433  -j-  415  -}-  391 

+  407  +  294  pp. 

* Examination    of    Sir  William    Hamilton's    Philosophy.      8vo. 

354  pp. 

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Locke.     By  Prof.  John  E.  Russell  of  Williams.     160  pp. 

Reid.     By  Dr.  E.  Hershey  Sneath  cf  Yale.     375  pp. 

Kant.    By    Prof.     John    Watson  of    Queen's   College,   Canada. 
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Hegel.     By  Prof.  Josiah  Royce  of  Harvard.     {Tn  press.) 


v^    *Nicholl8'  The  Psychology  of  Time.     By  Herbert  Nicholls,  Fellow 
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Zeller's  Outlines  of  the  History  of  Greek  Philosophy.  By  Dr.  Edward 
Zeller.  Translated  with  the  author's  sanction  by  Sarah  F. 
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HISTORY,  POLITICAL  SCIENCE 

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*Cook's  Extracts  from  the  Anglo  Saxon  Laws.  Edited  by  Prof.  Albert 
S.  Cook  of  Yale.     Svo.     Paper.     25  pp. 

*Cory"s  Guide  to  Modern  English  History.     By  Wm.  Coky. 
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*Cox's  Introduction  to  the  Science  of  Comparative  Mythology  and  Folk- 
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*Creasy's  History  of  the  Ottoman  Turks.  By  Sir  Edw.  S.  Creasy. 
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*Doyle's  English  Colonies  in  America.  By  J.  A.  Doyle,  Fellow  of  All 
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*Durand's  New  Materials  for  the  History  of  the  American  Revolution. 
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Duruy's  Middle  Ages.  By  Victor  Dcruy.  Translated  by  E.  II.  and 
M.  D.  Whitney.  Edited  by  Prof.  Geo.  B.  Adams  of  Yale. 
With  thirteen  new  colored  maps.     12mo.     603  pp. 

I 


MENRY  HOLT  of    CO:s  IVOR  A"  S  ON'  /riSTORV,  ETC. 


*Escott's  England  :  Her  People,  Polity,  and  Pursuits.  By  T.  11.  S. 
EscoTT.     8vo.     625  pp. 

*Falke's  Greece  and  Home  :  Their  Life  and  Art.  Translated  from  the 
German  of  Jacob  von  Falke  by  Prof.  Wm.  Hand  Browne  of 
Johns  Hopkins.     With  over  400  illuslralious.     Quarto.     365  pp. 

Fleury's  Ancient  History,  Told  to  Children.  From  the  French  of  M. 
Lame  Fleury.  Arranged  with  notes  for  tlie  use  of  schools  as  an 
exercise  for  translating  from  English  into  French  by  Susan  M. 
Lane.     12mo.     118  pp. 

Freeman's  Historical  Course.  Under  the  general  editorship  of  Prof, 
Edward  A.  Freeman  of  Oxford. 

1.  General  Sketch  of  History.  By  Prof.  Edward  A.  Freeman. 
Adapted  for  American  students.  New  edition,  revised,  with 
chronological  table,  maps,  and  index.     16mo.     433  pp. 

2.  History  of  England.  By  Edith  Thompson.  Edition  adapted 
for  American  students.     16mo.     400  pp. 

3.  History  of  Scotland.  By  Margaret  Mac  Arthur.  Edition 
adapted  for  American  students.     ]6mo.     213  pp. 

4.  History  of  Italy.  By  William  Hunt,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  Congres- 
bury,  Somerset.  Edition  adapted  for  American  students.  16nio. 
285  pp. 

5.  History  of  Germany.  By  James  Sime,  M.A.  Edition  adapted 
for  American  readers.     16mo.     282  pp. 

6.  History  of  the  United  States.  B}^  J  A.  Doyle.  With  maps, 
illustrative  of  the  acquisition  of  territory  and  the  increase  of 
population,  by  Pres.  Francis  A.  Walker  of  the  Mass.  Institute 
of  Technology.     16mo.     424  pp. 

7.  History  of  France.    By  Charlotte  M.  Yonge.    16mo.    267  pp. 

Fyife's  Modern  Europe.     By  C.  A.  Fyfpe,  M.A.,  Barrisler-at-Law  ; 
Follow   of  University   College,    Oxford  ;     Vice-President  of  the 
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the  Accession  of  Louis  XVIII.  in  1814.     With  two  maps.    8vo. 

549  pp. 
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Gallaudet's  International  Law.  A  Manual.  By  Pres.  Edward  M. 
Gallaudp:t  of  College  for  Deaf-Mutes,  Washington,  D.  C.  12mo. 
358  pp. 

Gardiner's  English  History  for  Schools,  b  c.  55- a. d.  1880.  By 
Prof.  S.  It.  Gardiner  of  King's  College,  London.  Edition 
revised  for  American  students.     16mo.     497  pp. 

Introduction  to  English  History.     By  Prof.  S.  R.  Gardiner. 

12mo.     209  pp. 

2 


HENRY  HOLT  &^    CO.'S   JVORA'S   O.V  HISTORY,   ETC. 

Gardiner's  English  History  for  Students.  Beini?  the  Introducliou  to 
English  Hisiory  by  Prof.  fe.  K.  GakdinjkIK.  With  \\  Critical 
and  Biographical  Account  of  the  Authorities,  by  J.  Bass  Mul- 
LiNGER,  M. A.,  St.  Johu's  College,  Cambridge.    ISino.     448  pp. 

Johnston's  History  of  the  United  States  for  Schools.  With  an  Intro- 
ductory History  of  the  Discovery  and  English  Colonization  of 
North  America.  With  maps,  plsms,  illustrations,  and  questions. 
By  the  late  Prof.  Alexander  Johnston  of  Princeton.  12mo. 
493  pp. 

Shorter  History  of  the  United  States.  With  references  to  supple- 
mentary reading.     IvJmo.     856  pp. 

History  of  American  Politics.  Third  edition,  revised  and  en- 
larged by  Prof.  AViLLiAM  M.  Sloane  of  Princeton.  16mo. 
3(56  pp.     (Handbooks  for  Students  and  General  Headers.) 

*Kapp's  Life  of  John  Kalb,  a  Major-General  in  the  Revolutionary 
Army.     By  Fkiedricii  Kapp.     With  portrait.     12mo.     346  pp. 

Lacombe's  The  Growth  of  a  People.    A  translation  cf  Paul  Lacombe's 
"Petite  Histoire  du  Peuple  Fran9aise  "  by  Lewis  A.  Stimson. 
16mo.     232  pp. 
The  same  in  French. 

•^Lossing's  Life  and  Times  of  Major-General  Philip  Schuyler.  By  Dr. 
Benson  J.  Lossing.  2  vols.  12mo.  With  portraits.  520  + 
560  pp. 

^Maine's  Ancient  Law.  Its  Connection  with  the  Early  History  of 
Society,  and  its  Relation  to  Modern  Ideas.  By  Sir  Henry 
Sumner  Maine.  With  an  Introduction  by  Theo.  W.  Dwight, 
LL.D.     8vo.     469  pp. 

* Lectures   on  the   Early  History  of  Institutions.     A  Sequel  to 

"Ancient  Law."     8vo.     4*^0  pp. 

* Village  Communities  in  the  East  and  West.  Six  Oxford  Lec- 
tures; to  which  are  added  other  lectures,  addresses,  and  essays. 
8vo.     425  pp. 

* Early  Law  and  Custom.     Taken  chiefly  from  Oxford  Lectures. 

«vo.     408  pp. 

Popular  Government.     Four  Essays.     8vo.     273  pp. 

* International  Law.     Cambridge  Lectures,  1887.    8vo.    234  pp. 

Sir  Henry  Maine.  A  Biief  Memoir  of  his  Life  by  Sir  M.  E,  Grant 
Duff,  with  some  of  his  Indian  Speeches  and  Minutes.  Selected 
and  edited  by  Whitley  Stokes.     With  portrait,  8vo.     451  pp. 

*Miir8  Considerations  on  Representative  Government.  By  John 
Stuart  Mill.     8v().     371  pp. 

3 


HENRY  HOLT  &-   CO.'S  WORI^S  ON  HT STORY,  ETC. 


*Miirs  On  Liberty  :  The  Subjection  of  Women.     8vo.     394  pp. 

*Morgan'8  Ancient  Society  ;  or,  Researches  ou  the  Liues  of  Huinan 
Progress  through  tSavugery  and  Barbarism  to  Civilizaliou.  By 
Lewis  H.  Mokgan,  LL.D.,  Member  of  the  National  Academy  of 
Science.     8vo.     576  pp. 

Porter's  Outlines  of  the  Constitutional  History  of  the  United  States.  By 
LuTiiER  Henry  Porter.     12mo.     326  pp. 

*Koscher"s  Principles  of  Political  Economy.  By  Prof.  Wm.  Boscher 
of  Leipzig.  With  a  preliminary  essay  by  L.  Wolowski.  All 
translated  by  John  J.  Lalor.     2  vols.     8vo.    485  -|-  465  pp. 

*Stillman's  Cretan  Insurrection  of  1866-7-8.  By  W.  J.  Stillman. 
12mo.     204  pp. 

*Sumner's  History  of  American  Currency.  By  Prof.  Wm.  Graham 
Sumner.  With  Chapters  on  the  English  Bank  Restriction  and 
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Report."    Large  12mo,  with  diagrams.     391  pp. 

* Collected  Essays  in  Political  and  Social  Science.     8vo.     176  pp. 

Protectionism.     The  "  ism  "  which   teaches  that  waste  makes 

wealth.     16nio.     181  pp. 

Problems  in  Economics.     Interleaved.     16mo.     137  pp. 

*Symonds'  Renaissance  in  Italy.  8vo.  Cheaper  edition,  dark  red 
cloth. 

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Part    II.  The  Revival  of  Learning.     561  pp.. 
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Part  IV.  Italian  Literature.     With   portrait  of  author.    2  vols. 

576  4- 653  pp. 
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* Italian  Byways.      By  John  Addington   Symonds.      12mo. 

318  pp. 

*Taine's  Ancient  Regime.  By  Hippolyte  Adolphe  Taine.  Trans- 
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* French  Revolution.     Translated  by  John  Durand.     3  vols. 

367  +  370  +  523  pp. 
* The  Modern  Regime.     Vol.  I.     371  pp. 

*Tylor's  Primitive  Culture.  Researches  into  the  Development  of 
Mythology.  Philosophy,  Religion,  Art,  and  Custom.  By  Edward 
B.  Tylor,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.     2  vols.     8vo.     514 +  478  pp. 

* Researches  into  the  Early  History  of  Mankind  and  the  Develop- 
ment of  Civilization.     8vo.     392  pp. 

4 


HENRY  HOLT  ^    CO:S  IVORHS  ON  HISTORY,  ETC. 

*Walker's  Wages.     A  Treatise  on  Wages  and  the  Wages  Class.     By 
Pres.  Francis  A.  Walkek.     8vo.     432  pp. 

* Money.    8vo.     560  pp. 

* Money  in  its  Relations  to  Trade  and  Industry.     12mo.     343  pp. 

Political  Economy — Advanced  Course.     8vo.     545  pp. 

Political  Economy— Briefer  Course.     12mo.     423  pp. 

Political  Economy — Elementary  Course.     12mo.     333  pp. 

*  Wallace's  Russia.     By  D.  Mackenzie  Wallace.     Svo.     With  two 
maps.     633  pp. 

Yonge's  Landmarks  of  History.     By  Miss  C.  M.  Yonge.     12mo. 
Part  T.  Ancient    History  to    the    Mahometan    Conquest.     Revised 

and  partly  rewritten  by  Miss  Edith  M.  Chase.     231  pp. 
Part  II.  Mediaeval   History  to   the    Reformation.     Edited  by  Miss 

Chase.     258  pp. 
Part  III.  Modern  History.     Revised  and  enlarged.     486  pp. 

5 


English  Language, 

standard  literature,  mythology, 

music,  etc. 

reference  and  text-books 


PUBLISHED   BY 


HENRY  HOLT  &  CO.,  NEW  YORK. 


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Bain's  Brief  English  Grammar,  on  a  Logical  Method.  By  Prof. 
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Higher    English    Grammar.      New   edition,    revised.       16mo. 

382  pp. 

English  Grammar  as  bearing  upon  Composition.     12mo.     382  pp. 

Banister's  Music.  By  Prof.  Henry  C.  Banister,  of  the  Royal 
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Normal  College  and  Academy  of  Music  for  the  Blind.  16mo. 
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Beers'  A  Century  of  American  Literature.  1776-1876.  Selections 
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Beers  of  Yale.     16mo.     435  pp. 

^Boswell's  Life  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.     Abridged.     12mo.     689  pp. 

Bridgman  (J.  C.)  and  Davis'  Brief  Declamations.  Some  200  three- 
minute  declamations,  mostly  good  examples  of  current  public 
speaking.  Selected  and  edited  by  Harry  C.  Davis,  Master  in  the 
Harry  Hillman  Academy,  Wilkesbarre,  Pa.,  and  John  C.  Bridg- 
man.    12mo.    381  pp. 

Bright's  Anglo-Saxon  Reader.  Edited  with  notes  and  glossary  by 
Prof.  Jas.  W.  Bright  of  Johns  "Hopkins.     12mo.     393  pp. 

Ten  Brink's  History  of  English  Literature.     12mo. 

Vol.  I.  To  Wiclif.  Translated  from  the  German  by  H.  M.  Ken- 
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yn.  II.  Wyclif,  Chaucer,  Earliest  Drama,  Renaissance.  Translated 
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*Carlyle  Anthology,  The.  Selected  from  the  works  of  Thomas  C;ir- 
lyle  with  tJie  author's  sauction  by  Edward  Barrett.  12mo. 
395  pp. 

*Champlin's  Young  Folks'  Cyclopaedia  of  Common  Things.  By  John 
D,  Champlin,  Jr.     Profusely  illustrated.     8vo.     6915  pp. 

* Young  Folks'  Cyclopaedia  of  Persons   and  Places.      Profusely 

illustrated.     8vo.     943  pp. 

* Young  Folks'  Cyclopaedia  of  Games  and  Sports.  Profusely  illus- 
trated.    8vo.     835  pp. 

Young  Folks'  Catechism  of  Common  Things.     16mo.     295  pp. 

Clark's  Practical  Rhetoric.  For  instruction  in  English  Composition 
and  Revision  iix  Colleges  and  Intermediate  Schools.  By  Prof. 
J.  Scott  Clark  of  the  Northwestern  University.  12mo.  395  pp. 
The  exercises  for  drill,  in  a  separate  mlume,  pi'inied  on  one  side  of 
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Briefer  Practical  Rhetoric.     12mo.     318  pp. 

The  Art  of  Reading  Aloud.     16mo.     159  pp. 

Cook's  Extracts  from  the  Anglo  Saxon  Laws.  Ed.  by  Prof.  A.  S.  Cook 
of  Yale.     Paper.     8vo.     25  pp. 

Corson's  Handbook  of  Anglo  Saxon  and  Early  English.  By  Prof. 
Hiram  Corson,  M.A.,  of  Cornell.  New  Edition,  revised.  With 
a  supplementary  glossary.     Large  12mo.     600  pp. 

Cox's  Manual  of  Mythology.  In  the  form  of  question  and  answer. 
By  the  Rev.  Sir  George  W.  Cox,  M.A.     16mo.     300  pp. 

Cox's  Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages.     Large  12mo.  pp. 

Educational  Review  (monthly  excepting  July  and  August).  Edited 
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Francke's  German  Literature  in  its  Chief  Epochs,  By  Prof.  KuNO 
Francke  of  Harvard. 

Gostwick  and  Harrison's  Outlines  of  German  Literature.  By  Joseph 
GosTwiCK  and  Robert  Harrison.     Large  12mo.     600  pp. 

Hardy's  Elementary  Composition  Exercises.     By  Irene  Hardy  of  the 

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*Johnson's  Our  Familiar  Songs  and  Those  who  Made  Them.  Edited 
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HENR  V  HOL  T  ^  CO.  'S  ED  UCA  TIONAL  WORKS— ENGLISH 

Johnson's  Chief  Lives  of  the  Poets.  By  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.  Be- 
in^  those  of  Milton,  Drydeu,  Swift,  Addison,  Pope,  and  Gray  ; 
and  Macaulay's  "  Life  of  Johnson."  With  a  preface  and  notes  by 
Matthew  Arnold,  to  which  are  appended  Macauhiy's  and  Car- 
lyle's  Essays  on  Boswell's  "Life  of  Johnson."  12nio.  493  pp. 
Macauhiy's  and  Carlyle's  Essay  separate.     i:2mo.     Boards,  100  p}). 

Lounsbury's  History  of  the  English  Language,  including  a  brief  ac- 
count of  Anglo-Saxon  and  early  English  literature.  By  Prof.  T. 
R.  LouNSBUiiY  of  Yale.     16mo.     381  pp. 

Nesbitt's  Grammar -Land.  Or,  Grammar  in  Fun  for  the  Children  of 
Schoolroom-shire.  By  M.  L.  Nesbitt.  With  frontispiece  and 
initials  by  F.  Waddy.     16mo.     128  pp. 

Pancoast's  Representative  English  Literature.  Selections  with  His- 
torical Connections.  By  Henry  S.  Pancoast,  University  Ex- 
tension Lecturer.     Large' 12rao.     514  pp. 

^Perry's  Greek  Literature.  By  Thomas  Sergeant  Perry,  author  of 
"English  Literature  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  etc.  8vo.  877 
pp.     Profusely  illustrated. 

Sewell's  Dictation  Exercises.  By  E.  M.  Sewell,  author  of  "  A  First 
History  of  Koine,"  "  History  of  Greece  for  Young  Persons,"  etc., 
and  L.  B  Urbino.  Seventh  edition,  thoroughlv  revised.  16mo. 
Boards.     202  pp. 

Shaw's  English  Composition  by  Practice.  By  Prof.  Edward  R.  Shaw 
of  the  University  of  the  City  of  New  York.  Complete  apparatus 
for  High  School  work.  On  an  Inductive  Plan.  12mo.  Illustrated. 
215  pp. 

Siglar's  Practical  English  Grammar.  Based  on  Progressive  Exercises 
in  Analysis,  Composition,  and  Spelling,  by  the  use  of  Symbols. 
By  Henry  W.  Siglar,  A.M.  (Yale),  Principal  of  the  Newburgh 
(N.  Y.)  Institute.     12mo.     192  pp. 

*Smith's  Synonyms  Discriminated.  A  Dictionary  of  Synonymous 
Words  in  the  Englisii  Language,  illustrated  with  Quotations  from 
Standard  Writers.  By  thelate  Charles  John  Smith,  31. A.  New 
edition,  with  the  author's  latest  corrections  and  additions,  edited 
by  the  Rev.  H.  Percy  Smith,  M.A.     12mo.     787  pp. 

White's  Classic  Literature,  principally  Sanskrit,  Greek,  and  Roman, 
with  some  accounts  of  the  Persian,  Chinese,  and  Japanese.  By 
C.  A.  White.  In  the  form  of  sketches  of  the  authors  and  speci- 
mens from  translations  of  their  works.     Large  12mo.     449  pp. 

*William8'  Our  Dictionaries  and  other  English  Language  Topics.  With 
four  plates.     By  R.  O.  Williams.     12mo.     174  pp. 

Witt's  Classic  Mythology.  A  translation  (with  the  author's  sanction) 
of  Prof.  C.  Witt's  "  Griechische  Gotler-  und  Heldengeschichten," 
by  Frances  Younghusband.  With  a  preface  by  Arthur  Sidg- 
wiCK,  MA.  Supplemented  with  a  glossary  of  etymologies  uiul 
related  myths.     12mo.    296  pp. 

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